


I've Changed My Mind, Ghosts are the Fucking Worst

by Redjay27



Series: It's Just Me, You, and These Fucking Ghosts [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Established Relationship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith is mostly a skeptic, Lance is a mega believer, M/M, Some Humor, Some suggestive language, but bickering still happens, but it's not too bad, like hardly any at all, lots o' fluff, lots o' swearing, some agnst, spooky stuff happens, the rest of the team is there too - Freeform, very brief mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 05:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15901425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redjay27/pseuds/Redjay27
Summary: Lance followed Pidge’s instructions, turning left and then stopping at the first door on the right. It was open. If he had thought the rest of the mansion had been dark, well, he was in for a real treat. The beam of his flashlight was swallowed up by the blackness that seemed to be oozing out of the open door. Lance could barely make out the top step of the staircase that descended into the basement. A chill blew up from the darkness, ghosting past Lance’s face, turning his cheeks red. The steady sound of water dripping echoed up from the basement, each drop escalating the terror that had begun to take hold of Lance’s insides and twist them until they popped.“Fuck...me…”-----OR an AU where your favorite team becomes ghost hunters! Featuring:-Lance 'chandeliers are the worst' McClain-Keith 'don't forget about me' Kogane-Pidge 'I'm small but I've got a big heart' Gunderson-Hunk 'story time!' Garret-Takashi 'its hero time' Shirogane-Allura 'my notes saved the day' McMama BearAND-Lotor 'I'm mysterious' Galrion





	I've Changed My Mind, Ghosts are the Fucking Worst

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome back! It's been a long time coming but here's part 3. Take your time and enjoy it. It's a monster. See ya at the end! 
> 
> WARNING: There are very brief mentions of blood. Like, super brief. And the descriptions are very mild. I stayed far away from anything graphic so I could keep the rating down. 
> 
> Oh shoot, also! There are some flashback scattered throughout the story. I tried to make it obvious when they occur so people don't get confused. Hopefully, I did a good job. But yeah, be prepared for those.

“Keith!” Lance shouted as he rammed his shoulder into the door, dropping the flashlight as he frantically tried to get it to open. When it didn’t budge, Lance tried turning the knob, slamming his fists against the hardwood as he did.

 _‘This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening!’_ Lance thought with every unsuccessful attempt to open the door.

“I’m here.” Lance heard Keith say, his voice muffled by the door. He sounded scared and Lance couldn’t really blame him. It was the morgue situation all over again except this time Lance was on the other side of the door _and he couldn’t get in._

“I can’t open the door...” Lance said as his attempts slowed, despair washing over him. He leaned his forehead against the door, one hand still on the handle and other resting in a balled fist against the wood.

“I know. You need to get out of here.” Keith said, his tone resigned.

“I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.” Lance replied firmly. And he meant it. He wasn’t about to just abandon Keith to whatever ghost was so fixated on him. Lance knew that he’d be leaving him to die if he did that. As if he could ever live with himself after that.

“Listen to me.” Keith said. Lance could tell that he was trying to make his voice sound more confident than he actually felt. “This thing is after me, not you. I don’t know why, but it is. And as much as that sucks, it means that you can find the others and get out.”

“But what about you?” Lance asked, a strained undertone to his voice.

There was no response.

Lance felt a burst of panic shoot through his veins. Had something happened to Keith? Was he okay? Did he lose him already? “Keith?”

“I don’t…” Came Keith’s response. “I don’t think I’m walking away from this one.”

Lance’s panic was replaced by anger, the shift so fast that Lance himself was surprised by it. He pounded his fist against the door, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ say that. Don’t you fucking give up on me. I will get you out of there if it’s the last thing I do.”

A breathy laugh came from the other side of the door. “So brave...shit must’ve hit the fan.”

“Shut up.” Lance replied, too angry to truly comprehend Keith’s words. “I have a plan.” And he did. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all he had at the moment.

“Oh, do tell.”

“You said Shiro can break down doors, right?”

He heard Keith snort before saying, “Yeah, probably. He goes to the gym more than you do.”

 _‘Probably?’_ Lance thought. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Then all I gotta do is find Shiro. He’s gotta be in here somewhere.” Lance replied.

“This place is huge. How’re you gonna find him?”

That had been the not-so-good part of Lance’s plan. He truly had no idea where Shiro or the rest of the team was. And now that he knew the ghost could mimic their teammate’s voices...well, that just made everything a whole lot harder and a whole lot more dangerous. It seemed that hadn’t slipped past Keith.

“I don’t know…” Lance admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But I gotta try. I’m not giving up on you.”

“Well…” Keith replied softly. “You better get moving.”

“Stay safe.” Lance said, hand opening up to lay flat on the door.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Lance tapped the door lightly with his fingers one last time, praying that Keith would be alright until he got back. Then, he pushed himself off the door, stooping to retrieve the fallen flashlight, and started heading back down the hall.

Lance knew something was off about this place from the second he had laid eyes on it. He couldn’t quite put it into words, but there was just something about it that didn’t seem right. It was like it was trying to cover something up, to put on the appearance of high society.

Entering the building had only amplified that feeling. Lance could feel the secrets of the place weighing down on him. The air was just slightly too heavy, the shadows just a little too dark. It left him feeling like something was constantly creeping up behind him, just waiting for him to let down his guard.

Truth be told, though, Lance had found it rather amusing that Keith didn’t like this place either...well, more like he didn’t like the owner of this place. Confidence had always been Keith’s strong suit. He wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done because he never had any doubts as to whether or not he _could_ get something done. And that confidence had leaked into their relationship, it was easy to see. At least, it was easy for Lance to see. Keith knew what kind of effect he had on Lance’s sanity. He knew all the right words to say, all the right buttons to push.

And so, it had taken Lance by surprise when Keith had suddenly transitioned into guard dog mode. It had been the first time Lance had ever seen Keith doubt the extent of Lance’s feelings. And sure, Lotor _was_ rather attractive. And sure, Lotor _did_ ask for him to be there specifically. But none of that should have set Keith off the way it did. They had been around plenty of attractive people over the last six months and none of those people had triggered Keith the same way.

Lance should’ve seen the warnings. He should’ve known that something was wrong. He shouldn’t have just brushed it off as some random burst of jealousy. He shouldn’t have…

“Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid!_ ” Lance muttered to himself under his breath.

Keith was trapped in that room with who-knows-what because of him. Because he had failed to see the signs that were right in front of his face. He had failed his one job: keep the people he cared about safe. And now the person who he cared for most was potentially seconds away from being possessed or killed or…

Lance felt sick.

\-----

“We need to talk.” Lance said as he entered Keith’s apartment, dropping his gym bag by the door.

Keith looked up from his phone, eyebrows raised. He shifted slightly on the couch, untucking his legs from beneath him and placing his feet on the floor. “About what?”

“Something happened.” Lance said, moving to stand in between Keith’s TV and the coffee table. “At the gym.”

Keith’s expression became confused. “Something...bad?”

Lance nodded, expression remaining serious. “It’s actually happened a few times...and I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not…”

“Why?”

Lance bit his lip, gut-wrenching guilt eating away at his insides. “...Because you might get mad.”

Keith hummed, leaning back against the couch in thought. “Well, I guess we won’t know until you tell me, yeah?”

Lance knew he had a point. And he was pretty sure he would die of guilt if he didn’t just spit it out. “Okay...um...so for the past, like, week there’s been this guy…” Lance trailed off, eyes shifting to the ground in shame.

“Okay. And…?”

Lance sighed and continued. “And he’s kinda...been hitting on me...a lot…”

“I see.” Keith said, the tone of his voice impossible to interpret.

“Please don’t be mad…” Lance said quietly.

“Too late. I’m mad.” Came Keith’s reply, low and dangerous.

Lance couldn’t help but flinch at Keith’s tone, blue eyes looking up to see bright indigo ones.

“I’m mad that it took so long.”

“Look, I’m sorry. And I swear I-wait, what?”

Keith let out a laugh, resting his elbow against the arm of the couch and propping up his head. “You clearly don’t know the effect you have on people.”

It was Lance’s turn to look confused. “Again, what?”

Keith gave him a small smile. “Have you ever looked in a mirror when you’re working out?”

“No? Why would I? I’m all gross and sweaty. I don’t wanna see that.”

Keith hummed again, eyes scanning up and down Lance’s tall figure. “Let’s just say that I’m not surprised you’re turning heads.”

Lance just stared at Keith, trying to follow the conversation. It had certainly taken a turn he hadn’t expected. Keith only stared back at him, waiting patiently for him to connect the dots.

“Do you?...like?...the way I look?...when I work out…?” Lance asked slowly, uncertainly and disbelief lacing his voice.

A hungry glint appeared in the raven-haired boy’s eyes. “Who can say?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at him. “I think you do.”

Keith stood up from the couch, a smirk on his face. He approached Lance, getting close enough for him to feel Keith’s breath brush against his cheeks.

“Think what you want.” Keith’s voice was little more than a whisper, sending shivers up and down Lance’s spine and causing his face to redden. “Just know that I’m not worried about some testosterone-fueled muscle head. You wanna know why?”

“Why?” Lance breathed out, eyes blown wide.

Keith leaned closer to him, one hand reaching up to pull Lance’s head down so Keith’s mouth was positioned right next to his ear. The other hand had found his side, drawing their bodies closer together.

“Because there’s just some things I’m better at.”

And with that, Keith released him, turning and heading towards the kitchen, a slight chuckle coming from him. “I’m gonna start making lunch. Try to pull yourself together before it’s ready.”

Lance didn’t know if that was possible. He’d need at least a month before he got over whatever the hell had just happened.

\-----

Despite the openness of the place, it felt like the walls were closing in around him, pressing into him with an unparalleled weight. It was suffocating. Even the beam of his flashlight illuminating the hall in front of him wasn’t enough to alleviate the oppression of the dark.

It was all he could do to keep his feet moving forward. Goosebumps littered every inch of his skin. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. His chest was tight, fear gripping his heart. But Lance knew that now was no time to be afraid. He simply couldn’t afford to be. Too much was at stake for him to give into his fear. It didn’t matter what might be following him. It didn’t matter how dark the mansion was. It didn’t matter that he had no idea what was waiting for him every time he turned a corner. He would keep moving forward one step at a time. Keith’s life depended on it.

The one silver lining to this hellscape of a situation was that Lance had somewhat of an idea as to where to start. The base camp. Not because he thought anyone would be there. Something told him that the rest of the team was trapped somewhere in this mansion and he prayed that his hunch was right. No, he needed to get back to the base camp because that’s where Allura left her notebook with the list of locations to investigate. That would at least give him a starting point for his search.

Lance’s hands were shaking as he entered the large foyer. The room definitely seemed more ominous now that he was alone - well, not counting the ghosts of course. Don’t get him wrong, he never liked the room. But now he liked it even less...if that was even possible. It was cold. Too cold. The type of cold that seeped into his clothes and stung his skin. It was unnatural. Whispers danced around the room, echoing off the walls. To the untrained ear they sounded like nothing more than a small draft. But Lance wasn’t naive enough to believe that. He knew he wasn’t alone.

Lance swallowed hard, eyes scanning the large room, half expecting to see something malicious. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved when he saw nothing or more frightened at the possibility of being attacked by something unseen.

“For Keith.” Lance whispered, his voice coming out slightly cracked. “You can do this for Keith.”

With one last deep breath, Lance started towards the staircase that led up to the second floor. His knees felt shaky, like any minute they could give out and send Lance crashing to the tiled floor. His footsteps were too loud for the room, the sound reverberating off the walls around him in an almost taunting fashion. He could see his breath, the small white puffs vanishing before his eyes. He pulled his sweatshirt tighter around him with his free hand partly to guard from the chill of the room and partly to protect himself from completely losing his mind.

Lance wished Keith was there with him. He would say something rational like ‘The heating just turned off’. And while he would be completely wrong, it would settle the nerves that were building in Lance’s stomach. But Keith wasn’t here, so Lance was shit out of luck it seemed.

Although the trek through the foyer was short, no more than twenty steps, it felt like ages before Lance reached the staircase. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he placed his foot on the bottom step of the stairs.

_-bang-_

Lance jumped, a high-pitched yelp escaping his lips at the sudden sound that bounced around the room before dissipating. Lance swung his flashlight frantically around the room, trying to spot the source of the sound. His heart had leapt up into his throat, the drumming sending a nauseating feeling shooting down into his stomach.

The room had gone silent, the whispers that were once present no longer reaching Lance’s ears. A dread washed over him, causing him to break out in a cold sweat. No part of him wanted to go investigate where that noise had come from. Not even a little bit. No thank you, ghosts. He’ll have to pass on that one.

But there also a chance that noise came from one of his teammates. What if they had heard him and that was the only way they could get his attention? What if he didn’t go check and they got hurt? Or died? Plus, he was pretty sure that the not-so-nice entity had stuck around Keith. So, it was probably safe enough to go take a look.

Probably.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_ !” Lance hissed out, grip tightening on the flashlight. “ _Fuck_ all of this!”

Lance steeled himself as best he could and stepped away from the staircase. He moved closer to the arched doorway that led to the front room. That’s where he thought the sound had come from.

“Okay, okay, okay...I’m okay...everything is just A-okay...nothing bad’s gonna happen…” Lance muttered to himself as he approached the room in an attempt to quiet the sirens that were going off in his head. It didn’t work as well as he hoped.

Entering the room, Lance noticed immediately that it felt exactly the same as the foyer. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. He scanned his flashlight beam around the room, looking for the source of the noise. It didn’t take him long to find. Lance maneuvered around the furniture, doing his best to ignore the heaviness in the room.

“Strange place for the static cam…” Lance said to himself, his voice breaking the silence. He knelt down next to the cam to see if it was damaged.

It was weird to find a static cam tucked into the corner like this one was. It was even weirder that it was laying on its side. A shiver ran up Lance’s spine as he thought of the implications of that.  He could see a couple of heavy books with French titles strewn about which only added to the weirdness. They didn’t look like they had been thrown around or anything like that, but rather placed there deliberately.

Lance reached towards the base of the camera and detached it from the stand, a small pop sounding in the room. He knew he was in a hurry but looking back at what was recorded might give him some clue as to where the rest of the team was. Maybe they passed through here. Maybe there was some super-secret and scary passageway in this room that would lead him to a creepy dungeon where everyone would be waiting for him to rescue them.

...Lance could admit that was probably a far-fetched idea, but the point was that he was desperate for anything that would point him in the right direction. So, if that meant that he had to speed through the recorded footage of a camera that was knocked over by someone...or something...than that was just what he was going to do.

He knew that Keith and Pidge were in this room not too long ago, so all he had to do was rewind until he saw them leave. Easy-peasy. No problem whatsoever. Lance, still kneeling by the turned over tripod, pressed a few buttons on the camera and watched as the footage rewound, going too fast for him to really comprehend what was going on. He briefly noticed how much clearer the screen looked. He remembered Pidge mentioning that they had been working on some upgrades for the static cams. Maybe this was the result of that.

It took less than a minute for Keith and Pidge to appear on the small screen, Lance hastily pressing the play button when they did.

_“Lance thinks everything is a ghost. He once woke me up at 2am because he was convinced a ghost was banging on the walls.”_

Keith’s voice was amused, his tone light. Lance couldn’t see his face, his back being turned towards the camera, but he could imagine how much delight the raven-haired boy was getting from making fun of him.

Lance had stopped minding Keith’s teasing a while ago. He supposed that just came with knowing each other for so long. In fact, if Lance had to guess, Keith’s sarcastic remarks and small jabs were his own personal way of showing affection. Keith teased because he cared. And not that anyone was keeping score, but he teased Lance the most.

...Lance would be lying if he said that didn’t make his heart flutter ever-so-slightly.

_“Was it? A ghost, I mean.”_

_“Pidge. I live in an apartment building. I have neighbors on almost all sides. I’ll let you do the math as to where the noise was coming from.”_

Lance couldn’t help but chuckle at Pidge’s outburst of laughter. Sure, he was the butt of the joke but there was no malice behind it.

 _“Oh man, I love Lance to death, but he can be just...so extra sometimes.”_ Lance could see Pidge still shaking with laughter, their voice cracking as they inhaled deeply.

_“You think that is extra? He refused to sleep at my place for the next two weeks.”_

He watched, a soft smile on his face, as Pidge doubled over with laughter again, more boisterous than before.

_“He’s...so...stupid…”_

_“Are you guys okay down there? We can hear Green all the way from the second floor. Over.”_

Although it was quiet, he could hear his own voice. He sounded worried and he had been. Randomly hearing Pidge’s monstrous laugh in the middle of a haunted mansion was freaky despite what anyone said.

 _“Speak of the devil…”_ He heard Keith say as he pulled the walkie from his hip and raised it. _“Yeah, we’re fine. Green says they love you very much and you should never change. Over.”_

Lance pressed the fast forward button, already knowing the rest of the conversation. He felt an ache grip his insides. Over the years this team had become his family. They supported him. They comforted him. They relied on him. They meant everything to Lance. So, if something happened to one of them? Well, Lance wasn’t sure what he would do…

\-----

“Please? I’m tired of always having to come to your place. I’d like to sleep in my own bed again.”

“But Keith, it’s not safe. You heard those noises.” Lance’s voice came out whinier than he intended.

“I’ve told you a million times it was just my neighbors. There’s no ghost haunting my apartment.” Keith sounded tired, exhausted even. A pang of guilt erupted in his stomach at the thought of making Keith walk the extra mile to his apartment.

“You know, you can sleep at your place without me…”

There was a silence. It stretched on long enough that Lance was afraid the call had dropped.

“Keith?”

A sigh sounded from the speaker. “I don’t want to, though. It’s fine. I just need to swing by my apartment and then I’ll be over. Wait up for me, okay?”

“...kay.” Lance replied, guilt eating away at him. Keith really _did_ sound tired.

“See ya soon, bye.”

The call now ended, Lance dropped his phone into his lap. Keith was always so understanding of his fears. As much as he made fun of Lance for them, he never pushed too hard to make him face them. Not since the asylum. And while he was grateful, he couldn’t help but wonder how much Keith had sacrificed by doing that. It didn’t seem fair...

“...Goddammit.”

Lance shot up from where he had been sitting on his couch, rushing to the door. He slipped his shoes on, only taking a moment to tighten the laces. He grabbed his jacket that was hanging by the door, slipping his arms through the sleeves as he left his apartment.

Lance’s fingers fumbled as he attempted to lock the door behind him, a string of curses escaping his mouth. He seriously hoped the five-year-old boy who lived next door hadn’t overheard him. But he had no time to worry about that because he had finally managed to lock his door. Lance sprinted down the hall of his building, deciding to take the stairs the three floors down so he didn’t have to wait for the elevator. Reaching the lobby, he heard the disgruntled shouts of the building manager as Lance tore through, but he didn’t stop. He could apologize later. Right now, he had somewhere he needed to be.

The fierce autumn winds hit him like a ton of bricks, immediately stinging his face and making his eyes water. Despite it, however, Lance forced his legs to keep moving as he turned left. Cars rushed past him, their tires spraying him with muddy water from the puddles that had formed earlier that day. He paid it no mind aside from occasionally wiping the water from his eyes. Lance’s breaths came out slow and even as he ran, all the months at the gym finally paying off. People moved out of his way as he passed, probably chalking him up to some late-night schmuck who was late for work.

Keith’s apartment building came into view before too long, the lights coming from the windows illuminating the night sky almost like a beacon to Lance. He didn’t stop or slow down as he turned into the building, throwing a greeting over his shoulder at the door guard who was familiar with Lance after years of him frequenting the place.

He skidded to a stop in front of the elevator, jamming the ‘going up’ button as hard as he could. He briefly thought about taking the stairs but running up seven flights did not seem like a whole lotta fun. Instead, he bounced in place as he waited for the door to open, eyes shining bright in determination.

The ding of the elevator sounded a moment before the doors opened. Raven hair and indigo eyes met him.

“Lance?”

Lance only allowed his surprise at meeting Keith so perfectly to stop him for a moment. He surged forward, hopping into the elevator and jamming the button for the seventh floor.

“Lance, what is going on?” Keith sounded worried, voice cracking slightly as the doors closed. “And why do you look like you haven’t taken a shower in weeks?”

Lance turned back to Keith, a bright smile on his face. “Let’s sleep at your place tonight.”

There was a pause, Lance waiting for Keith to process what he had just said.

“Did you run all the way over here just to tell me that?”

Lance felt a flush form on his face, cheeks going warm. “I mean, I wouldn’t say _run_...it was more of, like, a really fast walk...?”

“Oh my god, you ran here.” Keith said, an amused gleam in his eyes. “You could’ve just called me, you dork.”

Lance sputtered, looking anywhere but at Keith. “Well...I mean...yeah. But like...I didn’t...want to...uh…”

The door to the elevator opened with a ding, signaling their arrival to the seventh floor.

“C’mon.” Keith said with a chuckle, grabbing Lance’s hand and pulling him out of the elevator. “I’m making a rule that you aren’t allowed into the bed until you _at least_ take a shower. You’re really gross.”

Lance smirked, pulling on Keith’s arm hard, catching him off guard. The raven-haired boy stumbled backwards, practically falling into Lance’s embrace. “Now we’re both gross.”

“Okay, new rule. You aren’t allowed in my apartment ever again.” Keith replied, tone flat. He made no move to pull away from him, though; a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Lance.

A small laugh escaped his lips as Lance wrapped his arms tighter around Keith, pulling him closer. He breathed in Keith’s scent, basking in the warmth of the contact. “Okay, boss. But after tonight.”

“...fine.”

Sometimes, Lance realized, it was worth being a little scared for the one he loved.

\-----

As the tape sped forward, the pace slower than the rewind, Lance’s eyes searched for any sign of anyone passing through. The camera was angled so he could only see a sliver out into the foyer, but at this point he would take what he could get. He squinted at the small screen, eyes straining to see any movement.

There was nothing. At least, there was nothing he could see. No sign of his friends. He was back to square one. Great. What a waste of his time.

Lance sighed as the tape drew closer to the end of its recording. Luck was not with him tonight. He still had Allura’s notebook, so he wasn’t completely out of ideas, but it was hard to keep the fear at bay.

Lance stared at the small screen, counting down the last fifteen seconds until the tape ended. Nothing continued to happen.

14

13

12

11

The camera jerked slightly, barely noticeable unless someone had been paying attention to the screen as Lance had. He furrowed his brows, confusion filling his thoughts.

10

9

8

Another jerk, more forceful this time. It was like something was pulling at the camera, trying to…

Oh no…

Lance felt his breath stop short in his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen as he watched the last few seconds of the tape.

7

6

Lance could feel his pulse through his fingertips, the pounding much faster than what was considered normal. He was suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings, the heaviness that had been briefly forgotten now coming back in full force.

5

4

Through the green night-vision filter, Lance could see a dark mass starting to take shape, morphing in and out of clarity. His hands started to shake, thoughts becoming fuzzy as he watched the apparition form.

3

2

Lance dropped the camera with a yelp, a small clang coming from the device as it hit the tiled floor. He had dropped it because the black mass had rushed the camera, approaching far faster than any normal human could manage.

1

From his position, Lance could see the screen go black, the recording stopping. He was frozen in place, a million thoughts running through his head. The first being, _‘There’s more than one evil ghost in this place.’_

How did he know this? Well, that mostly had to do with his second thought.

_‘Why would a ghost that is after Keith leave Keith alone?’_

The answer was that it wouldn’t. Not after it had tried so hard to get Keith away from everyone else. So that really only left one explanation for what he had just seen. One ghost was with Keith...and the other was…

_‘I just heard that bang...like not even five minutes ago...meaning that while it was here...I was…’_

“On the staircase…” Lance said out loud, his voice hardly more than a squeak. It was probably still around. Watching. Waiting. “ _Fuck…”_

Lance spun as he stood up, acutely aware that his back had been turned on the open room for far too long. His breath sped up as his eyes scanned the empty room, flashlight shaking in his hands. He had to get out of here. It wasn’t safe. He didn’t think it was any coincidence that that _thing_ knocked over the camera when he was nearby.

Lance forced his legs to move towards the entrance to the room. His movements were stiff, every muscle in his body tense, ready to snap at the first sign of trouble. He looked over his shoulder frequently as he exited the room, expecting to see that black mass at any moment. Even though he had only seen it in a recording, he could tell it was bad news. Maybe it was because of the oppressive nature of the mansion. Maybe it was because of what had already happened that night. Maybe it was because Lance didn’t trust anything that could disappear in the blink of an eye. Whatever the case, Lance just _knew_ that it wasn’t about to lend a helping hand.

“Just get to the base camp. Just gotta get to the base camp. That’s it. Get to the base camp.”

Lance continued to mutter to himself as he walked back out into the open foyer. He still had a mission and some semblance of a plan. A ghost hunting him didn’t change that fact. He still had to find Shiro, still had to free Keith. He begged the universe that he wouldn’t get killed before he had the chance to do those things. Without him, Keith was a dead man and that was a thought that scared Lance more than the thought of being murdered by a ghost.

_-snap-_

Lance glanced up at the sound that had echoed from above him, heart starting to race in his chest. It was a crisp, short sound, unlike any of the other noises he had heard that night and it didn’t take him long to understand why.

A sound that could only be classified as a shriek came from Lance’s mouth as he dove to the side, body landing hard against the marble floors. He slid a short ways, letting go of the flashlight and covering his head as best he could as glass shattered around him, the deafening sound of the chandelier hitting the floor thundering throughout the room.

He squeezed his eyes shut, stinging sensations rising up on his hands and his partially exposed back, his shirt and sweatshirt having ridden up from his dive to the floor. He could feel the weight of glass shards land on him, sticking into his clothes and tangling in his hair. He bit his lip as the pain increased, the cuts he no doubt had starting to ooze small droplets of blood.

He could hear the last of the shards settle, the room becoming silent once more in the aftermath. Lance didn’t move for a few long moments, partly because he was afraid that moving would give him a fresh new batch of cuts, but mostly because he was just trying to process what had happened.

The chandelier had almost killed him, almost crushed him completely. If he hadn’t moved fast enough or hadn’t noticed? He wasn’t sure he wanted to think about that. What he did know was that he had never heard of any ghost hunter ever being attacked by a chandelier. That was a first. Stuff like that only happened in movies, not real life. It seemed he was dealing with an incredibly evil and incredibly powerful ghost and for whatever reason, it really really _really_ wanted to kill him.

Great.

His breathing was rapid, bordering on hyperventilation. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, setting off alarms in his brain. Lance shifted slowly, not wanting to hurt himself more than he already had. He could hear small ‘tings’ as glass slid from his person and bounced onto the floor. He opened his eyes slowly as he rose to a sitting position, noticing that his flashlight had rolled about ten feet away from him, beam illuminating a good portion of the destruction.

The skeleton of the chandelier sat about twenty feet away from him, the metal wires twisted and contorted from the fall. Around it was a sea of shattered glass, the light of the flashlight reflecting off them and causing small dots of light to scatter about the room. If it hadn’t been for him almost dying, Lance would’ve said the scene was strangely beautiful.

Looking down at himself, Lance could see that there were tears in the knees of his jeans, the fabric not able to withstand the dive to the marble floor. The back of his hands were cut up, a few leftover pieces of glass still sticking out of his skin. With gritted teeth, Lance pulled them out one by one, dropping them next to him. His hands shook slightly when he was done, the pain not fading even in the absence of the glass.

He didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that the sweatshirt he wore was still covered in glass. He decided that it probably wasn’t the best idea to keep it on. And while he wasn’t super stoked about the idea of walking around the mansion without it, he really didn’t want to take the risk of hurting himself even more.

He carefully shrugged out of his sweatshirt, letting it fall to the ground behind him. He let out a hiss as each new movement sent waves of pain up his back. He had a feeling that he would take a few scars with him when he finally managed to leave this place... _if_ he managed to leave this place.  

He reached up and gingerly ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake the glass out without further injuring himself. He closed his eyes as he did, not wanting the stray shards to fall into his eyes.

Shit had really hit the fan, Lance decided. Nowhere was safe as long as he was in this nightmare. There was no doubt in his mind that he had been lured into that room just so he would have to walk under the chandelier. Moving forward, he couldn’t allow himself to be caught so off-guard again. There was no telling what else this place had in store. Plus, he couldn’t afford to waste any time. The clock was ticking down and Lance hadn’t even a clue as to where his friends were. He had to get moving.

Opening his eyes once more, Lance stood, checking over himself one more time as he did. He noticed that the lens to his body cam was shattered, probably a result of Lance’s dive. Hunk wasn’t gonna be happy about that, but he had no time to care. He quickly unfastened the straps and slid the camera off, trying his best to avoid touching the cuts on his back. He then set the camera on top of his sweatshirt.

With a nod, he carefully walked over to the dropped flashlight, choosing his footing carefully, avoiding the larger piles of glass. His shoes were sturdy, but he’d rather not take any chances. Stooping to retrieve the flashlight, Lance steeled himself for the next leg of his mission. Allura’s notebook. He had to find it.

\-----

“Oh, shit!” Lance said sharply, dropping the knife that was in his hands onto the counter. “Christ, that hurts!”

Lance looked at his finger, noticing a small drop of red start to leak down his tan skin. He brought his finger to his mouth, sucking up the blood before it had time to drip onto the counter. He could feel a pulse in the tip of his finger, each beat causing the stinging sensation to intensify.

He heard a sigh come from behind him. “I _told_ you to be careful. Let me see.”

Lance turned to see Keith standing behind him, hand outstretched. He wore an annoyed expression, but his eyes held concern. A pang of guilt hit Lance in the stomach at the thought of making Keith worried. He pulled his finger out of his mouth, reluctantly offering it to Keith.

Already a new drop of blood had begun to form as Keith took his hand gently, inspecting the cut with an unparalleled intensity.

“It’s really nothing.” Lance said quickly. “I can just put a band aid on it.”

Keith shook his head. “Cuts like this bleed a lot. We should wrap your finger.” He let go of Lance’s hand, turning to grab a dry washcloth from beneath the sink. “Hold this over the cut while I grab my first aid kit from the bathroom.” He handed Lance the cloth.

“You don’t have to-”

“Lance.” Keith said, voice stern and gaze steely.

“...or you could wrap it. That works.” Lance squeaked out, crumbling under the weight of Keith’s gaze.  

“That’s what I thought.” Keith said. “Take a seat.”

Lance did as he was told as Keith left the room, hopping up on one of the counters that was not currently in use. The pain in his finger had dulled, only aching a little as he covered it with the cloth.

He glanced around the small kitchen as he waited for Keith’s return. The stove top was covered in pots and pans, steam rising from a few of them while others stood empty. The cutting board Lance had been using lay abandoned, the carrot he had been dicing only half finished.

It had been a week since the asylum video had been released and the whole team had found themselves being crushed under a pile of social media backlash. Not all of it was negative, but it was enough to take its toll. Allura had suggested a little get together, saying that it might help them relax. It had been Pidge’s idea that Keith should be the one to make dinner for them. Apparently, they wanted to see if his months of teaching himself to cook had actually amounted to anything. Lance also suspected that they wanted to make fun of him if it turned out that he sucked.

Lance had offered to help. Coming from a big family, he knew how hard it was to cook for a large group of people. It took extra hands. And while, he had no skill in the kitchen aside from the occasional grilled cheese, he was confident that he could at least lift Keith’s burden slightly.

Yeah, clearly that turned out well.

Keith didn’t say anything when he returned from the kitchen, setting the first aid kit in Lance’s lap and opening it. Lance watched him as he searched through it, too afraid to make any noise. He wasn’t sure how irritated Keith actually was at him. He’d rather not step on a land mine if he didn’t have to.

“I hurt myself a lot as a kid.” Keith said, pulling out a small gauze from the kit. “Not on purpose. Just in general. I didn’t a lot of stupid stuff.”

Lance didn’t say anything as Keith took the cloth off his finger, moving to rinse it under the kitchen faucet for a couple of seconds. He then returned to wipe the cut with the cloth, the warm water soothing the ache.

“I was always worrying my mom. Can’t remember how many times she yelled at me. But I never listened. I would just let her patch me up and then I went and did something else stupid.” Keith chuckled as he started to wrap the gauze around Lance’s finger.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Lance muttered, smiling softly as he pictured a young, battered-up Keith.

Keith snorted. “Thanks. Anyway, after she was done freaking out, she would always tell me that it was okay to get hurt as long as you take care of yourself after. It’s a nice sentiment if you think about it.”

Keith pulled a small pair of scissors from the kit, cutting the gauze and then securing it down with a small piece of medical tape. He then looked up from his work, indigo eyes meeting blue.

“But I’m gonna change it. Just a little.” Keith said, his voice slightly softer than it had been.

“Oh, yeah?” Lance asked. “How so?”

“It’s okay for you to get hurt.” Keith said, not looking away from him. “As long as you let _me_ take care of you afterwards.”

A warmth spread through Lance’s chest, heating up his insides and tinting his cheeks pink. “Yeah…” He breathed out. “I think I can let you do that.”

Keith smiled at him, standing up on his tiptoes in order to press his lips chastely against Lance’s.

\-----

“Okay, Lance.” He said to himself as he started back towards the stairs, the crunch of glass accompanying his voice. “Time to be brave. A ghost is trying to kill you. What’s new? You’ve dealt with that before. You can do it again. Just play it smart. You got this.” He kept up a steady stream of motivational comments as he ascended the stairs up to the second floor.

The atmosphere had changed since the chandelier. It wasn’t heavy anymore. There was no oppression. The air had grown warmer as well; he was no longer able to see his breath. It seemed breathable, comforting even. Everything was still dark, but the shadows didn’t seem so daunting. He didn’t feel like a million eyes were staring into his back. He felt alone, truly alone.

That didn’t necessarily surprise Lance. It wasn’t like he was any sorta expert, but there were a lot of theories about it taking a lot of energy for ghosts to manifest and interact with the living world. And while the ghost that was hunting him seemed powerful, he imagined that manifesting like it had and then dropping the chandelier on him had taken a lot of energy. He bet that it was drained at the moment. He wasn’t about to let his guard down, but for the time being it seemed that he would be able to proceed without worrying too much about something sneaking up behind him.

Lance made his way down the long hallway on the second floor towards the room that held their base camp. He thought back to the last time he had been in this room. In actuality, it hadn’t been that long ago, but it seemed like ages. So much had happened in such a short period of time. Attacked by books seemed like child’s play compared to the rest of the night. Maybe they should’ve just stayed at the base camp like they were supposed to. Maybe Lance wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe he wouldn’t be so afraid of returning to that display room and finding Keith dead…

He knew that falling down the ‘maybe’ hole was dangerous. He knew that he couldn’t change the past. What was done was done. But it was hard not to let his mind go there. It was hard to accept how bad the situation was. It was hard to not look at everything that was going on around him and not blame himself.

But how could he not?

 _He_ had been the one to demand that Keith leave. And while he hadn’t been wrong, he should’ve known to not say it like he had. Keith was prideful. He never backed down, especially when it seemed like the best idea. He had _known_ that. But Lance had been too much of a coward to remember that Keith wasn’t like him. He wasn’t one to give into fear easily. And so _of course_ he reacted the way he had towards Lance.

But if Lance had just stopped to think for one second, maybe they wouldn’t have had that fight. Then Shiro wouldn’t have benched them. His friends wouldn’t have walked out of that room without telling him where they were going. They wouldn’t have fallen for that fake scream, thinking that Allura was in danger. Keith wouldn’t be trapped.

No, this was all Lance’s fault. And if anyone got hurt, it would be on his hands. The least he could do was put everything he had towards finding and saving his family. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

Lance entered the still-lit room of the base camp. It looked almost exactly the same as they left it, the only difference being the books that had been thrown from the shelves. They lay scattered on the floor, most of them by the bookshelves but a few had made it as far as the supply table. Whichever ghost had been throwing the books at them had clearly been angry.

He wasted no time in heading over to where Allura kept her things, not even hesitating to rifle through her bag until he found her notebook. It was looking a little worse for wear, a consequence of going on so many investigations with them. The cover that had once been a dark purple was now a faded lavender, torn at the edges. The spiral spine lay smushed flat, probably the result of being shoved in Allura’s overflowing bag over and over again.

Switching off his flashlight and setting it down on the floor next to where he was crouched in front of her bag, he flipped the notebook open, ignoring the sharp pangs of pain that erupted on the back of his hands as he leafed through the pages. His fingers stumbled slightly as he hastily searched through the pages. He bit his tongue in concentration as he searched for what he was looking for. Allura took extensive notes about every place they visited. And normally, he would be grateful for that. She was good at her job; far better than the team had ever expected her to be. But right now, Lance was in too much of a hurry to spend a long time just trying to find the right place.

“Aha!” Lance said in excitement as he turned a page. “Le Manoir de Galrion! Found you!” He flipped a couple of pages, brushing past the history of the place and the logistics of their trip until he found what he was looking for. It was a list of all of the hotspots in the mansion. Some of the rooms on the list already had check marks by it:

_Parlor - 2nd floor✓_

_Front Room - 1st floor✓_

_Bedrooms - 3rd floor✓_

He thought it was safe to assume that his teammates hadn’t returned to those spots. He had already been to the front room and the only thing that had been waiting for him was definitely _not_ one of his friends. So, Lance turned his attention to the rest of the list.

_Dining Room - 1st floor_

_Wine Cellar - basement_

_Ballroom - 1st floor_

_Billiard - 2nd floor_

_Library - 3rd floor_

Five rooms. Well, it was a start. Not a great start - five rooms that looked to be pretty spread out was a lot of ground to cover - but a start nonetheless. Lance stared at the list, biting his lip in thought. He needed a plan. He couldn’t just pick a random order. That could cost him time he didn’t have.

It seemed only logical that he start with the one room on this floor - the billiard. If Shiro was in there, then he was in the clear. If it was Pidge and Hunk, then they could lead him to where Shiro was. Or where he was supposed to be. But if no one was in there...what then?

Well, if he knew Allura, he knew that she didn’t just randomly assign when they investigated what area. She liked to keep them spread out. It kept them from running the risk of interfering with anyone else’s investigation; it was harder to tell if a disembodied voice was actually a ghost or just some other member of the team talking a little loudly. So that being said, it would only make sense that one of the teams to be on the third floor and the other to be on the first. Right? That made sense? He really hoped it did.

There _was_ the wine cellar...which was in the basement. And call Lance crazy, but he wasn’t super jazzed to head down there. He hadn’t been anywhere near a basement for the last six months and he really did not want to start tonight in a _freaking haunted mansion!_ So, he decided to do what any traumatized, mature adult would do. He ignored it.

Lance flipped the page until he found Allura’s notes on the billiard, reading over the route to get there a few times and committing it to memory. After he closed the notebook, grabbed his flashlight from the floor, and stood, he made his way to the supply table. He grabbed a few extra sets of batteries for his flashlight and stuffed them into the pockets of his jeans. No way was he going to be caught without a flashlight in a place like this. He scanned the rest of the table, wondering if there was anything else he should bring. After a few moments of contemplation, he decided to take one of the spare walkie talkies. He knew they weren’t working right now, but who knew when he might catch a stroke of luck and pick up one of the others.

Flashlight in hand, walkie on hip, and notebook clutched to his chest, Lance faced the doorway out to the dark hall once more. He narrowed his eyes at the darkness, clenching his jaw in determination. It was time to get to work.

\-----

“I’m ‘ot drunk! You’re drunk!”

“Yeah? Doesn’t look like it. It looks like you’re about to fall over.”

“Psshh…’m fine. Swearsies.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna go get you some water. Stay here.”

“I’ll only stay here if you promise to bring me vodka.” Lance’s words were slurred, his brain fuzzy.

“Lance, you don’t even like vodka. You once called it Satan’s piss.”

“ _Vod-_ ” Lance replied, stretching out the word. “ _-ka!_ ”

“Fucking christ. Stay here. Please.” Keith gave him a stern look, his eyes untrusting, before turning and pushing his way through the crowd.

“Vodka!” Lance shouted after him.

Lance slumped over onto the table, humming softly to himself. He didn’t remember why he and Keith were at the bar, but he didn’t really care. All he knew was that he really really _really_ liked the buzz in his head. He felt good. Better than good even.

The noise of the bar was soothing, the mixed sounds of voices rising up from the crowd and enveloping him in an embrace. He could feel his eyelids start to droop, a sleepy heaviness weighing them down. He was perfectly content with letting himself fall asleep, the smell of sweat and alcohol not even registering in his drunken state.

“Nope. No ya don’t. No sleeping here.”

Lance forced his eyes open at the familiar voice. He felt a hand shaking his shoulder, firm but gentle. Lance looked up to see Keith standing over him, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“Keith…” Lance mumbled, raising his head with a lopsided smile on his face.

“Yeah, it’s me. I need you to drink this.” Keith set a glass down in front of him. “And then I’m gonna take you home.”

Lance stared at the glass for a moment before shifting his eyes back to Keith. “Only if…” Lance paused, trying to find the words. “You kiss me.”

He saw Keith roll his eyes. “I’m not gonna do that. Your breath probably stinks.”

Lance’s face fell into a pout. “But I really want you to...you’re so pretty…”

“It’s not gonna happen.” Keith said, voice firm.

“Hmm...what to do...what to do…” Lance replied in an almost too high-pitched voice, tapping his chin. “Suppose I’ll just have to play you for it.”

“Play me…? What are you talking about? Will you please just drink the water?” Keith pushed the glass a little closer to him.

“Nope!” Lance said, pushing it away. “Why would I give you somethin’ you want-” He paused, hiccuping. “If you won’t give me somethin’ I want?!”

“So, you’re gonna play me for it?” Keith asked, sounding about as ‘done’ as he possibly could.

“Yep!”

“And what do you intend on playing?” Keith said with a sigh, sliding into the seat across from Lance.

“Easy.” Lance said, leaning forward and giving Keith a wide smile. “Rock, paper...um, scissors! Instant death match!”

Keith let out another sigh, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “Fine…If I win, you drink the water and we go home.”

Lance nodded, his head spinning slightly as he did. “And if _I_ win, you have to kiss me.” Lance spread his arms wide with a flourish. “Right here in front of everybody! Deal?”

“Sure, yeah. Deal. You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna lose to someone as drunk as you.” Keith replied. Lance only offered him a toothy smile, his drunken haze not allowing him to be bothered by Keith’s jabs.  

Lance brought his hands up, one lying flat and the other making a fist. “Ready?”

“Ready.” Keith said, his hands mirroring Lance’s.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” The two said in unison, Lance bringing his hand down on the final word in the shape of a rock.

“What, how?” Keith said in disbelief, staring at his own hand which was holding the scissor pose.

Lance laughed, dropping his hands to the table. “I win! I knew I would!”

“How?” Keith repeated, shooting Lance a glare.

“I know you, Keithy.” Lance said, propping up his elbow on the table and resting his head in his hand. “I’ve watched you! Like a hawk! You always pick scissors on the first round. Al-ways.”

“You were planning this from the start?” Keith asked, his face horrified but also slightly impressed.

“Can’t do anythin’ without a plan…” Lance said, yawning. “That’s my rule…”

His eyelids grew heavy again as he watched Keith stand up from the table. He could feel sleep pulling at the edges of his mind, the alcohol only working to speed up the process.

“Let’s go home.” Keith said softly into his ear, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

“No…” Lance mumbled. “You owe me somethin’…”

He heard Keith’s melodic chuckle, gentle and calming. “I do. But why don’t we save it for when you’ll actually remember it?”

“Mmm...kay.” Lance agreed. “I’ll wait...but just because you’re pretty…”

Keith chuckled again. “Whatever you say.”

Lance only hummed in response, allowing Keith to pull him out of his chair and lead him out of the bar.

\-----

The path to the billiard wasn’t too long. Instead of heading back down the hall towards the foyer, Lance had turned right. The mansion was quiet, almost like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Lance didn’t know what that something was, but he was sure he didn’t want to find out. He knew he was just one bad experience away from having a full-on breakdown. The signs were there. He could feel his nerves bubbling just beneath his skin, threatening to boil over at any moment. His palms were sweaty, causing him to have to wipe them on his jeans repeatedly. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up.

None of that mattered though. None of it. He would deal. Keith had said that he was the best kind of brave. The kind that knew that bravery should be saved for moments that really mattered. Well, Lance couldn’t really think of a better moment. It was time to be brave. It was time to find his friends. It was time to save Keith.

Lance turned right down another hallway, forcing his legs to keep moving toward the billiard. Left. Right. Left. Right. One step at a time. The sense of urgency that had been with him since he left Keith doubled in strength as he moved down the hall, beating in the back of his mind like a drum.

Lance kept to the center of the hall, almost certain that if he got too close to the walls something would push him through one of the open doors and trap him. His footsteps sped up every time he passed beneath a hanging light. Sure, he probably wouldn’t die if one of those fell on him, but he really couldn’t afford to be knocked out at the moment. He didn’t trust anything in the mansion. He’d already made the mistake of doing that.

He noticed the billiard door was closed when he approached it. The thick mahogany was pristine, the gold plating that labeled the room unscratched. Lance had to be smart. He didn’t want to just go barging into the room and risk getting trapped.

Lance, tucking the notebook underneath his arm, reached out and rapped his knuckles on the door a few times. “Guys? Anyone in there?”

He leaned in closer to the door, listening for any sign that someone was inside the room. There was no answer.

He tried again. “If anyone’s in there, say something.”

He was met with silence.

Lance could feel the strings of terror slowly winding its way around his heart, squeezing it tight enough that he was afraid it would burst. He had a really a bad feeling about opening the door, but he also knew that his friends could possibly be unable to answer. Maybe they were hurt. Maybe they were knocked out. So really, he had no choice _but_ to open the door.

He gritted his teeth as he reached for the handle, fingers curling around the knob too tightly. He turned it slowly, the popping of the mechanism loud in the otherwise silent hall. He pushed the door open slowly, taking a step back as he watched it swing inward.

The room was dark like the rest of the mansion. He swung his flashlight beam around the room, looking for any sign of his friends, hurt or otherwise. There was a billiards table in the center of the room, a thick layer of dust coating the green felt. A small bar was built into one of  the walls, the wood of the stools gleaming as the beam passed over them. There were shelves filled with different forms of alcohol behind the bar, all unopened.

Lance continued his scan of the room, flashlight beam freezing as it fell on the wall to the left.

‘nOw i lAY mE DoWn tO sLeEp’

Lance was a hundred percent sure that was not part of the wall decorum. The words were scratched into the wallpaper, the gouges so deep that it penetrated the drywall behind it. He read the words three times, trying to force his panicked mind to make some sense of them. They remained a mystery.

Lance’s mouth had gone dry, his voice getting lodged in his throat. His grip around his flashlight tightened, knuckles turning white from the pressure. He felt his legs moving backwards though he didn’t remember willing them to. All he knew was that he needed to get away from that room. It was pretty clear that his friends weren’t there.

Lance didn’t take his eyes off the door as he backed away, sure that at any moment something was going to come out of the room and attack him. He wasn’t sure how long it took for ghosts to regain energy, but he’d guess that it was probably a lot faster than he wished.

“I think...it’s time to leave…” Lance whispered to himself, noticing the immediate shift in atmosphere. The air around him grew thick, an uneasiness spreading through the hall and settling on his shoulders. Goosebumps appeared on his skin, a shiver running up his spine.

Lance didn’t think as he turned and ran, footsteps pounding against the hardwood. His back stung with each movement, any cut that had closed up reopening. He didn’t dare glance over his shoulder at the room, but when he heard the door slam shut, he knew he made the right decision to get the fuck out of there. His breath came out in huffs and he wasn’t sure if it was from being winded or if he had finally started hyperventilating. Either way, he didn’t stop running. Not even stopping once had reached the base camp. He just kept going, skidding around the corner and heading back towards the stairs.

He did not in any way want to head back down into the foyer. Bad things happened there. And there was no way in hell he was about to turn around and head back towards the billiard. So in a snap decision, Lance turned left, sprinting towards the stairs that lead up to the third floor.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Lance arrived at the top far faster than he thought possible. Lungs straining and legs shaking, he finally stopped, leaning against the wall for support. His stomach still twisted in fear, a nausea swirling low in his gut. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and back of his neck.

“This...is...the worst...experience...of my life…” Lance said to nobody. And he meant it. He’d even take the asylum over this nightmare. At least there Keith was with him. At least there he didn’t have to wander around in the dark alone while some homicidal ghost stalked him. Yeah, trapped in a morgue sounded perfect right about now.

\-----

Lance ran his fingers through Keith’s soft, black hair in a repetitive motion. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. The action had simply become second nature. Keith’s head was in his lap, his breath coming out soft and slow. His eyes were closed, fingers curled around the blanket that covered Lance’s legs.

Lance’s eyes were glued on the TV, his brain effectively shut off for the night. It had been a hard day for them. Not in the strained relationship sorta way, but in the lack of privacy way. He supposed it was just a hardship that came with being internet famous and, in fact, most of the time he was more than willing to deal with said problem. He found out the hard way that having a phone shoved in his face while being bombarded with questions was where he drew the line. All they had wanted to do was go grocery shopping. That was it. Instead, they had found themselves subjected to an impromptu interrogation by some fans that were skeptical about the events that took place at the asylum.

The store manager had been their saving grace, noticing the situation and promptly kicking the fans out. Lance had apologized to the manager at least twenty times, feeling bad for causing such a commotion. She had been understanding, saying that she just hoped they were okay. Needless to say, he and Keith had spent the rest of the day cooped up in Lance’s apartment.

Keith had been quiet for the whole ordeal and he hadn’t spoken much since. Lance was worried, but he knew that Keith just needed a little time to sort out his emotions. When he had finally laid down on Lance’s lap, he knew that the worst had passed.

“Hmm…”

Lance glanced down at the small noise that came from the raven-haired boy, fingers pausing mid stroke through the soft strands. Keith’s eyes fluttered open, squinting slightly from the harsh light of the TV.

“I fell asleep…” Keith murmured, sounding like he had trouble believing it.

“You did.” Lance said, voice gentle.

Keith made no move to get up. “S’not my fault.”

“Oh? How’s that?” Lance asked with a chuckle. Keith acted sarcastic and tough a lot, but Lance had noticed that in certain moments of the day he let his more vulnerable side show. Sleepy Keith, for example. There was also sick Keith and hungry Keith. Lance treasured all of them.

“You’re too comfortable.”

“Ah.” Lance said, starting to stroke Keith’s hair again, eyes returning to the TV. “Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Keith replied.

There was silence between them, Lance thinking that Keith had fallen back asleep.

“Hey…” Keith said softly, his voice almost inaudible over the TV. “If you could go back in time and stop us from going to that asylum...would you?”

Lance shifted his gaze back down to Keith, noticing the troubled expression on his face. Lance could understand that. He’d often asked himself the same thing. The asylum was the worst thing to ever happen to him, but it was also the best. Without getting stuck in that morgue, Lance might’ve never built up the courage to tell Keith how he really felt. He might not have gotten the chance to learn how Keith really felt about him. He might not have ever gotten to know what it feels like to just sit on the couch and have Keith fall asleep on him.

“Sorry.” Keith said, noticing Lance’s hesitation. “That’s an unfair question. You don’t have to answer.”

“I wouldn’t.” Lance said. “The cost would be too high.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Lance replied gently. “I wouldn’t change what happened for the world.”

Keith was silent, an emotion that Lance couldn’t place churning in his eyes. Lance didn’t speak either, giving him time to process.

Finally, he heard a small, “Love you…”

A familiar warmth spread through Lance’s chest as he muttered, “Love you too.”

He didn’t ask if Keith would stop them from going to the asylum if he could. He didn’t think Keith knew the answer and that was okay. It was okay if he _never_ knew the answer because the asylum _had_ happened and there was nothing they could do to change that fact.

Lance watched as Keith’s eyelids drooped and eventually closed, content to let him sleep. He knew that at some point he’d have to wake Keith up enough for them to move to his bed, but for now he allowed Keith’s troubled thoughts to be clouded by the relief of dreams.

\-----

Lance pushed himself off the wall. He couldn’t waste time just standing around. He was on the third floor. He might as well find the library. With any luck he’d find someone. If not, it was one more place that he could mark off his list. Great. What a plan.

He flipped open the notebook, skipping through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. Lance skimmed through Allura’s notes on the library, trying to ignore the parts about what activity was usually seen there. He didn’t need to pile more fear on top of the fear that was already consuming him.

“Largest room on the floor...past the bedrooms...turn right...large door at end of hall…” Seemed simple enough. Lance was pretty sure he could handle that.

Lance sucked in a deep breath, trying to steel himself once more. He could do this. He needed to do this. As long as he just kept telling himself that he would be okay. He would make it through.

It didn’t take him long to notice that the hallways on this floor looked exactly like the ones on the first and second, the only difference being that the floors were carpeted instead of hardwood. A darkness still hung in the air, malice weighing down on Lance’s shoulders. Shadows danced on the edges of his vision, taunting him, daring him to risk the trek towards the library. He knew he had no choice.

With one last deep breath, Lance started down the hall. His footsteps now muted, he became overly aware of every little noise that came from the mansion. Small creaks and groans came from the walls, the old wood straining against the winter winds that rammed against the sides of the mansion. Tiny taps and scratches came from the open doorways of the bedrooms he passed. Lance didn’t dare look to see what was causing those sounds. He didn’t want to know. Instead he kept his eyes trained forward, doing his best to keep his focus on finding the library.

As Lance moved further down the hall, his thoughts returned to the many questions that had arisen from this night. Mainly, why had any of this happened? He knew that ghosts, especially angry ones, were unpredictable at best and so he may never truly know the motivation behind their actions, but there was also Lotor. What part did he play in all this? Why did he specifically choose them? Why did he specifically choose Lance?

Well, Lance supposed he already knew the answer to that last question. Lotor had said he wanted Lance around because ghosts were probably more drawn to him. And while at the time Lance hadn’t really thought too much about it, he could now see what Lotor had really meant. He was a giant, flashing sign for the malicious presences in the mansion. He might as well be shouting at the ghosts to come and kill him. So, the fact that something was hunting him was not _that_ much of a surprise when he really thought about. That didn’t mean it sucked any less though.

But that didn’t explain why one of the ghosts had been so drawn to Keith. If anything, Keith was probably like a ghost repellent. Even after the asylum he still continued to be a skeptic to some degree. Sure, he could admit that ghosts were real, but still insisted that most weird things weren’t the result of a haunting. So why? Lance couldn’t see the connection. Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing.

And, truth be told, he would probably never know the full truth. That’s just how ghost stuff worked. Reasons? Motivations? All of that stuff was usually impossible to decipher. Even the events at the asylum were still a mystery. Who was that patient? Why did he attack him and Keith? All questions that Lance would never know the answer to. So, why should this place be any different?

As he reached the end of the hall, Lance turned right, continuing to follow the directions that Allura had written out. As he shined his light down the hall, he could see a set of large double doors at the end. That, if Lance had to guess, was the library.  He didn’t hesitate in moving towards them, not letting the events of what happened in the billiard slow him down. It was time for bravery.

Drawing closer to the doors, Lance could see the magnificence of them. Swirling, ornate patterns were carved into the darkly stained wood, matching the patterns that Lance had seen on the large gate they had entered through when they arrived. The handles were golden and looked as if they had been polished recently.

Lance stopped in front of the door, taking a moment to pray that he wasn’t about to find another empty room with a message scratched into the wall. Taking one last deep breath, Lance called out, “Someone in there?”

There was a pause and then, “Lance? Lance! Holy shit!”

The wave of relief that washed over him almost brought Lance to his knees. He never thought he would be so happy to hear Pidge’s voice. “Oh, thank god I found you…”

“I thought we were gonna die in here!” Hunk’s voice called, a relieved laugh following it. “Can you open the door? It won’t open from our end.”

“Um...let’s see…” Lance said, taking a step forward to grasp one of the gold handles. With a small grunt, he pushed against the heavy door, the hinges creaking as it started to swing open.

“Freedom!” Pidge shouted as they rushed past Lance once the door was open. They stopped a little ways down the hall, collapsing onto the carpeted floor and rolling onto their back. They stretched their limbs outward, a pained laugh escaping their lips. “I knew there was a reason I hated libraries. They’re the _worst._ ”

“Yeah, I agree.” Hunk said as he came out of the room, stopping next to Lance to watch their small friend. “They suck.”

Lance looked at Hunk standing next to him. He still had one of the big cams on his shoulder. His face was paler than Lance had ever seen it before. There were bags under his eyes, the exhaustion of the whole ordeal probably getting to him.

“What happened to you guys?” Lance asked.

“More like what happened to you?” Hunk replied. “You look awful.”

Lance looked down at himself. His shirt was stained, pants ripped, and he could only imagine what his hair looked like. “A chandelier tried to kill me.”

Pidge let out a snort, sitting up. “Seems about right.”

“But seriously,” Lance pressed. “What happened?”

“Don’t really know.” Pidge replied. “One moment we were doing an EVP session in that damned library and the next the doors slammed shut and we couldn’t get out.”

“Yeah, and then there was that creepy message.” Hunk added. “I thought that was going to be the end for us right then and there. But then you showed up.”

“Creepy message?” Lance asked, feeling the blood drain from his face. “What creepy message?”

Hunk turned and pointed back into the library. “It just started to appear randomly. Like something was scratching it into the walls”

Lance’s eyes followed to where Hunk was pointing. He shined his flashlight into the dark library, the beam landing on the wall above the fireplace at the far end of the room.

‘i pRaY tHe LoRd mY sOul tO kEeP’

“Oh...fuck...it’s here too.” Lance whispered, unable to make his voice any louder.

“What’s here?” Pidge asked hesitantly. “Lance?”

“How long?” Lance asked forcefully, eyes snapping between Hunk and Pidge.

“I dunno…” Hunk said. “Not long. Ten minutes maybe? Fifteen?”

“Shit…” Lance hissed out. “We need to leave. Now!”

“What? Why?” Pidge asked, rising from the floor. “Lance, what’s going on?”

“Short explanation is that if we stick around here bad things are gonna happen. Long explanation with have to come later.” Lance said quickly, his words stumbling over themselves as they spilled out of him. “Now, c’mon. We need to move.”

Lance didn’t wait for either of them to reply before he was moving back down the hallway, glancing over his shoulder at the now empty library. It was toying with him. He could feel it. And Lance didn’t care for that shit at all.

He could hear his friends following him, both probably thinking he had lost his mind. That was fine. They would understand later. For now, he just needed to get them away from that room.

“Lance…” Lance glanced back at the sound of his name coming from Pidge. The beam of their flashlight was aimed at his back. Their voice was concerned, worried even. “Why’s there blood on your shirt?”

“Oh…” Lance replied. He hadn’t realized that his back had bled enough for it to soak through. “My back got cut up pretty bad from the chandelier. It’s fine though. I’m pretty sure most of the bleeding stopped.”

“It doesn’t _look_ fine.” Hunk said, sounding much more worried than Pidge had. “It looks pretty painful.”

Lance shrugged, ignoring the small stings of pain that shot up his back at the movement. “I’ll survive. We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

“Like what, dumbass?” Pidge asked, sounding irritated. “What could be more important that making sure an injury like that doesn’t become infected? Or worse?”

Lance froze, guilt and dread washing over him. He appreciated his friends worrying about him, he really did. But he wasn’t important right now. He didn’t matter. As long as Keith was in danger, nothing else mattered.

“Hey, Lance?” Hunk asked softly. “Where’s Keith?”

Lance didn’t answer for a moment, his voice getting lost in his throat. “He’s...uh...trapped...on the first floor…”

“Trapped? What do you mean?” Pidge asked.

Lance turned to face his friends, a pained expression on his face. “We were tricked. We thought Allura was in danger. We thought…” Lance took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm that was raging inside him. “Anyway...I got out. He didn’t. So now I’m looking for Shiro. If anyone of us could break down a door, it’s probably him.”

A silence stretched between the small group, each taking their time to process the situation. It was Pidge who first spoke.

“He and Allura were headed to the wine cellar. Best guess? They’re trapped down there just like Hunk and I were.”

Lance couldn’t help the small groan that escaped him. “The basement? This night just keeps getting worse and worse…”

“They went to the basement so you and Keith didn’t have to after you managed to get over your little fight.” Hunk said.

Lance sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, to the basement it is…”

\-----

The smell of coffee and baked goods swirled around him, Cinnamon and espresso mixing together to create an atmosphere that perfectly complimented the fall weather outside. Soft music could be heard playing over the speakers that were suspended from the ceiling of the small cafe they were in. It was moderately packed, most people just stopping in to get a brief moment of relief from the chilling fall breeze.

Pidge sat across from Lance, blowing slightly on the cup of coffee that was in front of them. Their glasses had fogged over from the steam that was rising from their mug, yet they didn’t seem to care. Lance’s own mug of coffee sat in front of him, untouched. He wasn’t as impatient as Pidge. He knew that soon enough the hot liquid would be warming his insides, the lingering taste of pumpkin spice still on his tongue.

“Did you guys know you’ve been trending for, like, three days?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’ve been keeping track.” Pidge chuckled to themselves. “I cannot tell you how much fanart I see of you two with the caption ‘I stick around because of you.’ below it. The fans are really having a field day.”

“Do you go looking for fanart of us?” Lance asked, not sure how he would feel if Pidge’s answer was yes.

“What? Hell, no! What do you take me for? I’m not some creep.” Pidge shot a glare at Lance.

Lance held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry...my bad.”

Pidge only continued to glare at him as they took a sip of their coffee. Lance felt his face flush in embarrassment. He really should’ve known to not assume something like that of Pidge.

“I’m sure that’s only helped the popularity of the show, though.” Lance offered, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“Well, duh.” Pidge replied. “Which brings up an entirely new issue actually.”

“Oh?” Lance said after taking a sip of his own coffee. “And what’s that?”

“There’s been some...dispute...as to what people should call you now.”

“Call us? Do they want us to change our names? Is Lance and Keith not good enough?” Lance cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Pidge let out a laugh, the noise catching the attention of the people sitting at tables close to their own. “No, no, no. Nothing like that. I mean like your relationship name.”

That didn’t clear things up for him. “I don’t follow.”

“Oh, jeez…” Pidge sighed. “Okay, it’s like this. People like to have a name for famous relationships so they can refer to it without having to go through all of the trouble of saying ‘Lance and Keith’ all the time. It’s kinda stupid, but efficient.”

“So, you want me to come up with some kinda relationship name?” Lance asked.

“Exactly.” Pidge said with a nod. “Then I’ll tweet about you guys or something and make it official. Maybe since it’s coming from you directly, people will stop bugging me about it and just accept the name. Maybe. I’m hoping.”

“Okay…let me think…” Lance wasn’t sure how on board he was to naming his and Keith’s relationship, but if it would help keep some of their more enthusiastic fans off their back than he could at least give it a shot. “How about...Klance?”

“Ew, no. That’s so lazy. You just took the K of Keith’s name and put it on your own. I hate it.”

“I dunno. I think it’s got a nice ring to it. I could see people really getting attached.” Lance said, leaning back in his chair. “I think it’s a winner.”

“I’ll be caught dead before I let some awful name like Klance appear on my twitter feed. Try again.”

Lance sighed. “Alright, fine.” He turned his eyes upwards in thought. “Hmm...Laith?”

“That sounds like some sorta exotic fabric.” Pidge said, voice dry. “Tired of regular old lace? Well try this new and improved lace-like fabric imported all the way from Ukraine: Laith!”

“I don’t think we get fabric from Ukraine…”

“Whatever, you get my point. It’s a shitty name.”

“Damn, you’re hard to please...maybe...what about...Team Purple? I mean, Keith is Red and I’m Blue so...”

“Purple.” Pidge finished for him. “I actually kinda like it. Let’s go with that one.”

“It’s pretty great, right?” Lance said with a broad smile.

“It’s not _that_ great. It’s good enough, though.” Pidge replied, pulling out their phone.

Lance was silent for a moment, biting his lip in thought. “Hey...uh...can I ask a favor?”

“Hm? Sure.” Pidge replied, not looking up at him.

“Can we not tell Keith that this name was my idea? I’m worried that he might...I dunno...not like it.” Lance dropped his eyes to the table.

“Well, he’s Keith. He doesn’t like a lot of things. So yeah, your secret's safe with me.”

“Thanks for having my back, Pidge.”

“No problem.”

\-----

“So, let me get this straight. There’s _two_ evil ghosts in here? And Lotor is somehow involved? What the fuck is going on?”

The trio was currently on their way to the basement, heading down the stairs to the second floor. Lance had hastily explained the situation to them, including the fact that Lotor had probably locked them in and that they were being hunted by a ghost that had the ability to drop a chandelier on him.

Lance felt a lot better now that he wasn’t by himself, but he also knew that now was no time to relax. They weren’t out of the woods yet. And something told him that the worst was yet to come. He sincerely hoped that thought just came from his fear-induced brain and not from some sixth sense he had for bad luck.

Lance nodded his head in response to Pidge. “Yep, that about sums it up.”

“And one of ‘em’s been leaving those freaky messages for you to find?” Hunk asked, disbelief in his voice.

Lance nodded again. “Correct.”

“What did they say again?” Pidge asked.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep.” Lance quoted, shivering as he remembered the words. “I don’t know what it means though. It just sorta sounds like some prayer or something.”

“Pidge, does that seem familiar to you?” Hunk asked.

“Kinda...have I read that recently? Hmm...” Pidge replied. “Ho-ly shit!”

Lance glanced back at Pidge who had stopped in their tracks. The group had made it to the second-floor balcony. Pidge leaned over the railing, their flashlight beam shining down into the foyer below, face frozen in shock.

“You really weren’t kidding about the chandelier thing…”

“You survived that?” Hunk asked, pointing the camera down at the wreckage below.

“Barely.” Lance said, glancing down at the sea of glass. “We should keep moving.”

“Yeah, right.” Pidge said, tearing their eyes away from the scene. “Let’s go.”

“So, you were saying that you’ve read those phrases somewhere before?” Lance asked as they once again started to descend the stairs.

“What? Oh, yeah. They definitely sound familiar.” Pidge replied. “Any ideas, Hunk?”

“Was it...in one of those books we looked at?” Hunk offered, sounding uncertain.

“Books? What books?” Lance asked.

“We were in that library for a while.” Pidge said. “We got bored and started snooping through some of Lotor’s collection. That place was filled with a lot of stuff related to the house or the Galrion family, most of it in French.”

“There were a few books in English though.” Hunk chimed in.

“And you read those phrases in one of the books?” Lance asked, an anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

“Yeah, I think. But I think there was more to it than that.” Hunk replied. “What was it...Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep…Should I...no, that’s not it... _If_ I should...something something wake, I pray...something something soul to take…” Hunk sighed. “Sorry man, that’s all I can remember.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Lance replied, offering a small smile to his friend. They had arrived on the ground floor, each of them walking carefully over the glass that was spread out. The basement, according to Allura’s notebook, was in the opposite direction of the room Keith was trapped in, so the trio walked the parameter of the room towards the hallway that led off in that direction.

“You guys learn anything else useful in those books?” Lance asked, not really hoping for too much in return.

“Actually, yeah.” Pidge said from behind him, the crunch of glass accompanying their voice. “One of the books was about the history of the Galrion family. Lots of tragedy, it seems. This was one unlucky family.”

“In what way?” Lance asked as they reached the hallway.

“In the forbidden love slash untimely deaths kinda way.” Pidge replied.

“Yeah, although it sounds like a pretty typical rich family tale.” Hunk added. “The daughter of one of the Galrions who owned this mansion fell in love with some poor guy from the nearby town. The father disapproved of course.”

“Of course.” Lance said, rolling his eyes. “Typical rich father. So let me guess, the lovers planned to run away together?”

“Bingo.” Pidge said. “But one of the maids snitched. So the father flew into this rage, locking his daughter in the freaking basement and saying she couldn’t come out until she agreed to marry someone from the upper class.”

“Dick.” Lance said.

“Right? But this girl wasn’t about to give into her father. So she was stuck down there for like, a really long time. Super long. One day one of the maids went down to give her food and found her dead. Apparently, she had found a shard of glass and...well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest.” Pidge finished with a sigh.

“And what happened to the father?”

“He blamed the girl’s lover, of course.” Hunk said. “So he hired some guys to hunt down and kill him, which they did. Fast forward two years and the father gets shot and killed while traveling through the town the girl’s lover used to live in. Apparently, it was the distraught mother of the guy he had killed that pulled the trigger.”

“What a shame…” Lance said sarcastically.

“That what I said!” Pidge said with a small laugh. “But that’s just one story. There’s lots of other one’s about people dying from some sickness or falling down some stairs. One girl even got kidnapped and held for ransom. I mean, she survived. But then she died liked three years later in some carriage accident.”

“No wonder Lotor is the last remaining family member…” Lance muttered.

The trio had reached the hallway at this point, Lance still in the lead with Pidge only a step behind him. Hunk brought up the rear, camera still on his shoulder. While the conversation between the three blocked out most of the dread Lance had been feeling when he was by himself, there was still _something_ that hung in the air around them. It was too disembodied for Lance to really grasp just what that something was, but it was strong enough to cause his eyes to shift from one shadow to the next as if he was expecting to see that black mass again.

“Left up here.” Pidge said, now in charge of Allura’s notebook. They had it open to the page with all the notes on the wine cellar, directions included. “Then it should be the first door on the right. Hopefully.”

Lance followed Pidge’s instructions, turning left and then stopping at the first door on the right. It was open. If he had thought the rest of the mansion had been dark, well, he was in for a real treat. The beam of his flashlight was swallowed up by the blackness that seemed to be oozing out of the open door. Lance could barely make out the top step of the staircase that descended into the basement. A chill blew up from the darkness, ghosting past Lance’s face, turning his cheeks red. The steady sound of water dripping echoed up from the basement, each drop escalating the terror that had begun to take hold of Lance’s insides and twist them until they popped.

“Fuck...me…” Lance whimpered, not caring what the others might think of him.

“Ya know, you don’t have to go down there.” Pidge said. “Hunk and I can go and find them.”

Lance shook his head. “I just found you guys. I’m not about to risk losing you again.”

“Are you sure?” Hunk asked. “We know you’re not big on basements after...well, you know.”

Lance turned to his large friend, offering him a grateful smile. “I’m sure. I can’t be a coward forever. Gotta toughen up at some point.”

“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” Pidge said. “According to Allura’s notes, the wine cellar is in an offshoot of the basement. It looks like there’ll be a door on the right that leads to some hallway-thing. After that it should be straight ahead.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Lance said, grip tightening on his flashlight. “Let’s go.”

Lance’s legs didn’t move. They stayed frozen in place as he stared wide-eyed at the abyss he was about to walk into. His hands felt clammy, nervous sweat mixing with the cold draft coming from the open staircase.

“Lance?” pidge asked quietly. “Are we gonna go or…?”

“Right!” Lance said, voice high pitched and words coming out too fast. “Yep! Here we go!”

Lance’s movements were stiff as he approached the stairs. He wasn’t even quite sure how he was getting his legs to move, but he wasn’t about to question it. All he cared about was that they kept moving. One step at a time.

The stairs groaned under Lance’s weight, the wood bending more than he thought it should. He reached out with his freehand to brace himself against the wall, using it to guide him further down into the basement. He could feel the paint chip off the wall as he slid his palm against it, a few of the pieces digging into his skin before they eventually fell to the ground. The air grew musty as they descended, the stale smell of dust and mold causing each breath Lance took to feel suffocating.

“Shit…” He heard Pidge say from behind him. “This place is a fucking nightmare.”

“Ya know, usually I’m not too creeped out by the places we go, but yeah. This is the worst.” Hunk replied. “I can’t believe Allura and Shiro saw this and _still_ decided to investigate.”

“You know them.” Pidge said. “They’re both pretty skeptical. I think only Keith beats them in that category. They’re pretty kickass as a team.”

“Let’s just hope that hasn’t gotten them killed.” Lance said, his voice hardly more than a squeak.

“I’m pretty sure Shiro is impossible to kill.” Pidge replied. “And Allura could just glare at a ghost and it would run away with its tail between its legs...if ghosts had a tail I suppose. Whatever. She’s not somebody who goes down easily. They’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Lance said, not truly believing what he was saying. Too much bad stuff had happened that night already for him to be optimistic.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lance looked around, trying to ignore all of the cobwebs his flashlight beam passed over. The room was a decent size but looked like it hadn’t been used in years. There were cracks in the stone walls that surrounded the room, each one twisting up towards the ceiling in jagged patterns. The room was held up by large, brick columns. Decent-sized chunks of them were missing, the pieces scattered near the bases of the wide structures. Pipes lay in a maze over their heads, occasional drops of water coming from them and landing on the concrete floors, forming small puddles. There were a few doors in the room that lead off into separate parts of the basement; the door to the wine cellar was to Lance’s right, the wood looking old and rotten, like it would crumble to nothing from the slightest touch.

Whatever dark feeling Lance had felt upstairs had doubled in magnitude down here. He felt like he had wandered into the belly of the beast. Whispers floated throughout the room, too quiet for him to make out. Shadows moved unnaturally around the two flashlight beams, curving and bending in ways that set Lance’s nerves on edge. Eyes came from all directions, each stare weighted with a sorrow that dug into his skin, pulling forth the despair he had struggled to keep at bay the entire night.

“We need to be quick.” Lance said softly. “This place is dangerous.”

“Normally, I’d say you’re overreacting.” Pidge said. “But given everything else that’s happened, I’m gonna agree with you.”

“Yeah, I second that. Let’s get moving.” Hunk chimed in.

Lance only nodded before turning towards the door to the wine cellar and hastily walking towards it. He didn’t hesitate to pull it open, the hinges creaking at the sudden movement. The door swung open, revealing a long hallway, the ceiling barely high enough for Lance to stand up straight.

“What...the... _fuck?!_ ” Pidge said, moving their flashlight frantically along the walls of the hall.

Lance’s mouth had gone dry, his heart ramming against his rib cage in a deafening manner. He didn’t dare blink as he took in the sight before him, too scared that he would be attacked by _something_ the moment he closed them.

“Well…” Hunk said quietly. “I guess we figured out the rest of that rhyme…”

The walls of the hall were covered in words, all scratched into the damp stone. It was the same four phrases over and over again, two of which he was already familiar with.

‘nOw i lAY mE DoWn tO sLeEp, i pRaY tHe LoRd mY sOul tO kEeP’

And two that he wasn’t.

‘iF i ShOuLd dIE bEfoRE i wAke, i pRaY tHe LoRd mY sOul tO tAkE’

Every inch of the walls were taken up by one of the phrases, some of the scratchings looking old and faded while others looked brand new.

“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take…” Pidge said slowly. “I really don’t like the sound of that.”

“Do we really have to go down there?” Hunk asked.

“Shiro and Allura are probably trapped down there.” Lance said, swallowing his fear. “We have to. They would do it for us.”

“Man...I hate it when you’re right.” Hunk replied.

“Me too.” Lance said, his voice low. “Let’s go.”

Stepping into the hallway, Lance thought he was going to die. He’d thought that a lot about a lot of the places he had investigated. But he’d never been more sure that he was walking to his death than in this exact moment. Nothing he had experienced before could compare to the feeling of resignation that coursed through his veins. Not even in the morgue did he feel this hopeless. It was like every inch of fight that was left in him had been sapped. Everything was bleak, worthless, meaningless…

“Do you guys feel that?” Lance asked quietly.

“Feel what? Creeped out? Then yes.” Pidge said.

“No, not that. It’s more like...sorrow? I guess. I’ve never felt anything quite like it.”

“I don’t feel it.” Hunk said. “And right now, I’m pretty okay with that.”

“Well, that girl did die down here.” Pidge said. “Maybe it’s her.”

“Maybe…” Lance said, his voice empty, hollow.

“Hey! Are you guys out there!” Shiro’s voice called from the end of the hall, muffled by the large metal door that Lance assumed led into the wine cellar.

“Shiro!” Pidge shouted, running the rest of the way down the hall. “Are you okay?”

Lance and Hunk jogged after them, a fresh wave of relief sweeping over him and momentarily blocking out the despair.

“We’re fine. Just glad you found us.” Came Shiro’s reply. “Can you open the door? We haven’t been able to.”

“Well, if the same thing happened to you that happened to Hunk and me, then…” Pidge pulled on the large metal handle, grunting slightly. The door swung open slowly, Shiro and Allura coming into view on the other side. “Voila!”

Shiro looked the same as he always did, features calm but firm. Lance should’ve known he wouldn’t have lost his cool even after being locked in a wine cellar. He had the other big cam in his hands although it looked like he had stopped recording. Allura looked a little stressed out, her face slightly sunken and her hair a little out of place.

“Thank god we found you.” Hunk said. “It would’ve sucked to come down here for no reason.”

Lance saw Shiro’s eyes scan the small group, his gaze eventually falling on Lance. “Where’s Keith? Why isn’t he here?”

Lance wanted to answer Shiro, he really did. The sooner he explained the situation, the sooner they could free Keith. But for some reason his voice got stuck in his throat, the words fuzzy in his head. He felt like he was drowning, lungs refusing to suck in the musty air. His limbs felt heavy, like something was pulling him down to the ground.

“Lance? You okay?” Shiro asked, taking a step towards him.

Lance couldn’t comprehend the question. It didn’t make any sense to his muddled mind. He could feel himself sway slightly, his balance becoming unstable as he tried to clear his mind of the fog. He felt so tired. He really just wanted to sleep. He couldn’t remember why he was in this place. Couldn’t recall why he had been in such a hurry.

Lance let go, allowing himself to be dragged under. Succumbing to the fog.

\-----

“This is so not how tonight was supposed to turn out.”

“If I knew this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have made you get out of the van.” Keith sounded regretful, apologetic.

“S’not your fault.” Lance replied.

“Still…” Keith said, voice soft.

Lance, in a brief moment of _something_ \- he didn’t know what - loosened his grip on his pants, moving his arm through the darkness until he felt the fabric of Keith’s pants. Lance noticed briefly that Keith didn’t flinch from his sudden touch, a fact that he was grateful for. He didn’t want to freak Keith out, after all. He continued moving his hand until he found what he was looking for.

Keith’s skin was soft as Lance’s fingertips traced lightly across the back of his hand. It only took one little tug from Lance for Keith to flip his hand over, allowing Lance to lace their fingers together.  

Lance wasn’t sure if his heart was pounding in his chest from the fear of dying or from Keith’s hand grasped gently in his own. It was probably a bit of both if he was honest. But if Lance was going to die, murdered by some crazy ghost, at least he got to do it while holding Keith’s hand.

“I never told you the last reason.” Keith said, voice almost a whisper.

“What?” Lance asked, voice just as soft.

He felt Keith squeeze his hand as he replied, “I never told you the last reason for me sticking around. It’s probably the most important one.”

“Oh…” Lance said. “Well, you can tell me now. If you want, I mean.”

Keith was silent, the only sound in the dark morgue being their breathing. Lance thought for a moment that Keith wasn’t going to continue, but then he heard, “I stick around because of you.”

Lance felt his breath catch, butterflies crashing into the walls of his stomach. “Me?” He asked, voice still quiet.

“Yeah.” Keith replied. “You.”

“How?”

Keith let out a breathy chuckle. “What do you mean ‘how’? How could you not? You’re always so stupidly happy and cheerful...when we’re not investigating, that is. You care way more than any person has a right to. Hell, you willingly face the thing you’re the most afraid of over and over again just to make sure your friends are safe. I don’t think I could do that…”

Lance shifted slightly but didn’t say anything. He didn’t think Keith was finished yet.

“You don’t put up with anyone’s shit, especially mine. And you’re about as stubborn as they come. And quite honestly, I’m scared out of my mind right now and the _only_ thing keeping me thinking like a sane and rational person is this.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand tightly. “And that’s really only because it’s you and no one else.”

Lance was sure that he was dreaming. No way would Keith just say stuff like that. Either he was possessed by a ghost or just _that_ scared. And Lance had never seen Keith scared. Not even once. Not even when Pidge designed a haunted house with the explicit purpose to scare Keith, complete with special effects and some kick-ass monster make-up. Keith hadn’t even flinched once during that whole fiasco.

“You’re scared…?” Lance asked, hoping that Keith didn’t become defensive.

“Mhm.” Keith replied. “I’m scared because I can’t explain what’s going on...and if I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t control it. And that means anything could happen. To me. To you. And that’s scary to me.”

Lance understood. Not knowing what was coming next, unsure if everything was going to turn out okay. He’d felt like that plenty of times in his life, tonight more so than ever. “Well,” Lance said, trying to make his voice more firm. He wasn’t that successful. “I’m scared too.”

He heard Keith chuckle again, “Yeah, I figured that out already.”

“No, what I mean is that being scared with somebody is a lot better than being scared by yourself. So...I’m just really glad you’re here…”

Silence fell between them again. Lance knew there was something else that he wanted to say. He also knew that if he didn’t say it now, he probably never would.

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“I stick around for you too.”

\-----

“Lance! Please for the love of all that is mighty! Wake up!”

Hearing Pidge shouting at him was not the best way for Lance to be dragged back to consciousness. In fact, it was probably one of the worst ways he could imagine. Right behind being splashed with water and a hangover.

Lance opened his eyes, blinking a few times to make his eyes focus. His back was stiff, an ache radiating out from the pressure that was put on the cuts he had sustained from the chandelier. His head pounded, the pulse far too loud and far too fast. His limbs felt lethargic, like they were filled with sand. He tried to think back to why he had fainted, but had a hard time remembering anything after Pidge had opened the door.

“Oh, I think he’s waking up!” Hunk said from somewhere on his right.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Allura said.

“Give him some space, guys. Let him breathe.” Shiro’s commanding voice cut in.

Lance blinked a few more times, swallowing as he tried to find his voice. The high ceilings of the hallways of the mansion came into view. It was illuminated by yellow lights that moved slightly every so often.

“Lance? How’re ya feeling?” He heard Shiro ask.

Lance shifted his gaze to where Shiro’s voice had come from, sucking in a deep breath as he did. “I’m okay...I think...what happened?”

“You tell us.” Pidge said. “You just fainted out of nowhere.”

Lance sat up slowly, raising his hand to his head as he did. “I dunno. It just felt dizzy all the sudden and then...nothing. Where are we? How long have I been out?”

“We carried you out of the basement.” Allura said. “And it’s only been about ten minutes.”

“Shit…” Lance said, exhaustion evident in his voice. “That really sucked.”

“Lance, I know it might be hard,” Shiro said gently. “But you need to tell us where Keith is. You’re the only one who knows.”

Panic shot through him, causing him to scramble to his feet far faster than he should have. How could he have forgot about Keith?! How could he have just allowed himself to faint when Keith was in danger?!

“We have to save him! Now! I-I need you to break down the door!” Lance stepped towards Shiro and grasped his shoulders, desperation fueling his movements.

“I’ll do what I can, Lance.” Shiro said calmly, his eyes understanding. “But you have to tell me where first.”

“I can take you there!” Lance said frantically, his breathing rapid. It seemed that after pushing down his fear and panic for so long, the dam had finally broke.

Shiro nodded. “Lead the way.”

\-----

The muffled pads of his socked feet were the only sound in the hallway as Lance made his way to Keith’s room which was only a few doors down. Even with the calm atmosphere of the hotel, Lance felt more awake than ever. His eyes shifted from side to side as he walked as if he was expecting something to jump out at him. Every shadow caught his eye and sent small bursts of adrenaline through his veins. He had to keep reminding himself that he was far away from the asylum. Far away from that morgue.

Lance knocked lightly on Keith’s door, not wanting to wake the other guests of the hotel. He hoped that it was still okay for him to come over. Sure, Keith _had_ invited him, but that had been before....

Maybe Keith just wanted to be left alone. But Lance _didn’t_ want to be alone, so his feet remained planted in front of Keith’s door.

As the door opened, Lance was greeted by Keith who was dressed very similarly to himself aside from the red zip up sweatshirt that hung loosely from his shoulders. He looked drained, exhausted, but his eyes were alive, too aware. Lance recognized that look. Keith wouldn’t be sleeping tonight either.

“You came.” His voice was light.

“Well, I mean, I said I would.” Lance replied, wringing his hands nervously. “But I can leave if you want…”

He saw Keith roll his eyes. “Get in here, you dork.” He said a moment before reaching out and grabbing Lance’s wrist, pulling him into the room, door shutting behind him.

“I’m not a dork.” Lance said, voice a slight whine.

“No, you are.” Keith said, moving past Lance to sit on his bed. “The biggest one.”

Lance remained where he was, crossing his arms. “Well I’m sorry that not everyone can be some stupidly pretty, irritating prick like you.”

“Careful, I think part of that was a compliment.” Keith replied, chuckling.

“You wish.” Lance said, words clipped from irritation.

“Hmm, maybe.” Keith said. “But if it wasn’t, you aren’t allowed on the bed.”

“What?!” Lance sputtered. “That’s bullshit!”

“My room, my rules.” Keith said with a shrug. “Just admit that it was a compliment and I’ll let you on the bed.”

“No way.” Lance said, shaking his head. “I won’t give you the satisfaction.”

“That’s fine.” Keith said, a smirk on his face. “I’m sure the floor is comfortable. I’ll even throw you a pillow.”

Lance glared at Keith, a fire dancing in his eyes. Keith ignored it, just giving him an innocent smile. “You’re really gonna make me say it.” Lance said. It wasn’t a question.

“I really am.” Keith replied smugly.

Lance debated the options in his head. The floor was carpeted so it probably wasn’t that uncomfortable, but the bed looked so soft and he was so sore from sitting against that wall for so long. Could he afford to damage his pride a little? He sure as hell didn’t want to, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

Lance’s shoulders slumped in defeat, arms falling to his sides. “Yeah, okay. It was a compliment. You are stupidly pretty, and _it isn’t fair._ Happy now?”

Keith laughed, the sound causing Lance’s heart to race. He really loved Keith’s laugh.

“Yeah, I’m happy.” Keith said, opening his arms wide, inviting Lance over. Lance slinked forward, feeling like he had lost all control in the situation. He practically fell into Keith’s arms, wrapping his own around Keith’s muscular frame. The two fell backwards onto the bed, Lance nuzzling his face into Keith’s neck. He could smell the fresh laundry detergent still clinging to Keith’s clothes, the scent reminding him that they weren’t anywhere near that asylum. They were okay. Everything was fine.

“...thank you…” Lance mumbled, his grip on Keith’s sweatshirt tightening.

“For what?” Keith asked, voice curious.

“For protecting me...ya know, right at the end there.” Lance replied.

“Oh.” Keith said. “Well I said I would.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to.” Lance pointed out.

“True.” Keith admitted. “But I wanted to and I would do it again.”

Lance hummed in response, closing his eyes. He felt gentle fingers start to run through his hair in a soothing pattern. His body felt heavy, lethargic. His perpetual fear often left him in a state of exhaustion for at least a day after an investigation. This time was no different it seemed. He felt safe in Keith’s arms, protected from whatever was waiting for him in the shadows.

Lance never slept after any investigation that had a lot of ghost activity, but as he listened to Keith’s soft breathing and felt Keith’s pulse resonate within him, Lance found himself drifting closer and closer to the edge of sleep. He didn’t try to fight it, instead welcoming it like an old friend, letting it drag him under until he was lost.

\-----

“Here!” Lance said, slowing his pace from a sprint to a jog as he approached the door he had said goodbye to Keith through what felt like so long ago. Lance pounded his fist against the door. “Keith! I’m back!”

There was no answer from the other side of the door, causing anxiety and horror to tear through Lance.

“Keith?” Lance called, his voice practically a sob. “Please answer me…”

He felt strong hands grasp his shoulders and move him away from the door, passing him off to Allura who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Lance clasped his hands together, fingernails digging into his own skin, and raised them to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles. Water started to build in his eyes. What if he hadn’t been fast enough? What if Keith was hurt? What if he was dead? What if he had died alone at the hands of some maniacal ghost?

_‘Please let him be okay...please let him be okay...please let him be okay…’_

Shiro took a few steps back before surging forward and slamming his shoulder into the door, a bang echoing down the hall. The door rattled but remained in place, a cloud of dust sprouting from the doorframe.

“It’s too thick.” Shiro said, massaging his shoulder. “I can’t break it down alone. Hunk, give me a hand.”

“You got it.” Hunk said, handing off his camera to Pidge who was already holding Shiro’s. Normally, Lance would have expected them to complain about the weight, but Pidge just took the camera without question, worry in their eyes.

“On my count…” Shiro said, his tone fierce. “One...two...three!”

The two ran towards the door, throwing their shoulders against the wood. Splinters exploded in the air, causing Lance to have to cover his face with his hands. The door swung open, smashing into the wall from Shiro and Hunk’s force.

Lance didn’t even wait for the sawdust to settle as he broke away from Allura’s grasp, pushing past his friends and entering the room. His eyes searched frantically around the room for any sign of Keith. He wasn’t hard to find.

He lay towards the center of the room, eyes closed. His hair was fanned out around him, a tangled mass of black against the hardwood. His skin was pale, dark circles around his eyes. His face looked sunken, drained, like his strength had been sucked out of him. There were scratches in the flooring on either side of him, small drops of blood, pooling beneath his fingertips. The fabric of his pants that had covered his shins was burned away, small piles of ashes spread out around his legs. Two large handprints were branded into his skin, the smell of burned flesh filling the air.

Lance didn’t know what it was like to feel his heart shatter until that very moment. He practically fell to his knees next to Keith, tears spilling down his face. A wet sob was ripped from his throat, his voice filling the room.

“I’m too late...oh god…” Lance’s voice was choked, the words barely able to break through the haze of heartbreak. He placed his fingers against Keith’s neck, ignoring how his skin was like ice. “You _promised!”_ Lance was yelling now, anger mixing with his desperation dangerously. “You told me you’d stay safe, dumbass! You’re not allowed to die! Not yet! You promised!”

“This is my fault…” Lance heard Pidge say from behind him, their voice small. “If I hadn’t forced you guys to come…”

“C’mon Keith…” Shiro muttered, kneeling down next to Lance.

Everyone waited, staring at Lance’s fingers that still lay against Keith’s neck. No one spoke. No one moved. They just waited.

Lance closed his eyes, focusing on feelings Keith’s heartbeat. It had to be there. It just _had_ to be. There was no other option.

Faintly, a thumping started to resonate against Lance’s fingers. It was slow and barely more than a series of flutters, but it was there.

 _‘Oh, thank you.’_ Lance thought. _‘Thank you, thank you, thank you…’_

“I’ve got a pulse...” Lance said, his voice coming out like a sigh. “He’s alive.”

The sound of breath being released filled the room, each member of the team feeling the weight lift from their shoulders ever so slightly.

“We need to get him to a hospital.” Shiro said, taking charge. “And fast.”

“The quickest way out of here is through the front.” Allura said, her tone firm.

“It’s locked…” Lance said, eyes not leaving Keith’s face. “From the outside.”

“We’ll just have to break it down.” Shiro replied, no hesitation in his voice. “Lance, Allura. You’ll have to carry him. Try not to move him around a lot. We don’t know what other injuries he’s sustained.”

“Of course.” Allura said, Lance only managing to nod weakly.

“Pidge, leave the cameras here. We’ll come back for them later. I need you on lookout. Something attacked him and it could come back. Take a flashlight and watch our backs.”

“Okay…” Pidge said, setting the cameras on the ground and taking the flashlight Shiro had extended to them.

“Hunk. You and I are in the front. Think you can help me break down that door?”

“It doesn’t stand a chance.” Hunk said, determination in his voice.

“Good. Let’s move.”

“I’ll take his legs.” Allura said, positioning herself near Keith’s thighs, not daring to touch his injured shins.

“Okay…” Lance said, moving so he was crouching above Keith’s head. He had to keep reminding himself that now was not the time to have some sorta breakdown. He could do that later when they were all safe. Right now, Keith needed him focused and strong.

Lance took a short second to wipe the tears from his eyes and then gave Allura a small nod. “Count of three.”

She nodded back at him.

Lance dug his hands under Keith’s shoulders as gently as he could, pulling him upwards slightly so his head rested on Lance’s chest. Allura slid one arm underneath his thighs and another one underneath his shins. Lance could see that Allura had let the arm under his thighs hold most of the weight, while the other was only there to keep his legs from moving too much.  

“Okay, one...two...three.” The two lifted Keith from the ground, both grunting under his dead weight. Lance took a moment to readjust himself so he wouldn’t drop Keith, and then said, “Okay, Shiro. Lead the way.”

Shiro nodded and then lead the way out into the hallway, Hunk a half step behind him. Lance and Allura followed behind them while Pidge brought up the rear. The group was silent as Shiro guided them back to the foyer, his pace fast but still manageable for Lance and Allura.

The air around the mansion had changed. While before it had been dense, thick enough to bore into Lance’s very being, it was now unbearable. It pressed in on his chest, the pressure digging into him. His lungs strained against it, causing each breath to be short and painful. Whatever warmth had been left in the mansion was now sapped. It was like the whole place had turned into a freezer. He could see the breath of his teammates fill the air and then dissipate before being replaced by a new cloud. The mansion groaned around them, a wailing that was too loud to be natural. It tore through the halls, surrounding them in a tornado of suffering and pain.

“Guys!” Pidge called from behind Lance. “I think we’ve got company!”

Lance glanced over his shoulder, eyes falling on a familiar black mass illuminated by Pidge’s flashlight. It disappeared and reappeared randomly, moving closer to them every time it did. An ungodly scream accompanied it, shaking the mansion, one word overpowering all other sounds.

_Stay_

“Shiro!” Lance called, hoping his voice could be heard over the mayhem. “We need to move faster or we’ll never make it!”

Shiro looked back at him and nodded, breaking into a run, the rest of the team following. Lance’s grip on Keith was iron tight. It didn’t matter how scared he felt. He was _not_ about to let some evil ghost touch another hair on Keith’s head. The only way that would happen was over his dead body.

The group didn’t stop as they entered the foyer, heading straight for the front entrance. Glass crunched beneath their feet and somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped that everyone had on sturdy shoes. The last thing they needed was a bloody foot.

A small shriek escaped Lance’s lips as something gripped his shirt, pulling him backwards. He could hear Allura curse as she almost dropped Keith from the sudden change in direction. Lance fought the phantom grip, clenching his jaw as he tried to break free.

“Lance!” Pidge shouted, rushing to help him. “Fuck! Okay, I’m gonna rip your shirt!”

“Do it!” Lance said between clenched teeth. “Hurry!”

He could feel Pidge grab at the collar of his shirt a moment before they were pulling down hard. The rip of his shirt was drowned out by the screaming that was echoing around the room, but he could feel the fabric fall away from him body, exposing his back to the stale iciness of the mansion.  He could still feel something pulling him backwards, fingers clawing at his shirt in a desperate attempt to get to Keith.

“Okay, one more!” Pidge shouted a moment before they were ripping Lance’s shirt again, completely tearing away the back half of it. He had to catch himself from falling forward at the sudden loss of force pulling him backwards.

“Move! Move! Move!” Pidge shouted, pushing at Lance’s now-exposed shoulders to get him moving towards the door.

He could see Hunk and Shiro already charging it, shoulders slamming into the wood. The door burst open, the outside world coming into view. Lance didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see it in his life.

“Okay!” Shiro yelled. “Everyone into the van!”

The team exited the building, the brisk winter temperature refreshing compared to the dead cold that hung inside the mansion. The pressure lifted immediately as Lance crossed the threshold, finally allowing him to breathe in large gasps of air.

Snow drifted towards the ground, covering the stone steps and black drive in a blanket of white. The group had to slow as they descended the stairs, not wanting to slip and risk injuring Keith further. Moonlight broke through the overcast, the light bouncing off the snow and illuminating their path to the van.

Behind them, a shriek could still be heard coming from the mansion. It was agonizing, tearing into the very foundation of the house. It wound its way through the now-empty halls and filled the large, open rooms.  

Shiro pulled the van door open, dishing out orders as he did. “Lance, get in first. Prop him up enough so that the door won’t hit his legs when its closed. Allura, you’ve got the wheel. Pidge, Hunk. Take the back seat. Use those big brains of yours to get some kinda internet connection and find us the nearest hospital.”

No one argued with Shiro. They simply got to work. Lance climbed into the middle row of seats, Shiro helping to hold Keith while he got situated. Then Keith was moved into the van, his head and upper torso leaning against Lance’s chest. His head sagged to the side, eyes still closed. He could smell Keith’s lavender shampoo still clinging to his hair, a scent that Lance had grown to love. It was overwhelming, pulling tears from Lance’s eyes that he could no longer keep at bay. He laced his fingers between Keith’s limps ones, not daring to squeeze too tight for fear of hurting him.

“Please stay with me…” Lance murmured, hoping that by some miracle Keith could hear him.

The rest of the team piled into the van, Allura turning on the car and hitting the gas as soon as everyone was in. Lance didn’t even glance up as they drove away from the mansion, instead his eyes were glued to Keith’s pale face. No one commented on Lance’s quiet sobs. No one even spoke to him, probably unsure of what to say.

“Damn! I forgot about the gate.” Lance heard Shiro say from the passenger’s seat.

“It’s not a problem.” Allura said, her tone low and dangerous.

“Allura?”

She didn’t respond to Shiro, instead slamming her foot down on the gas as the large gate came into view. “Hold onto him, Lance!” She called as everyone else started screaming, each clutching their seats as the van flew forward.

Lance braced his legs the best he could against the floor of the van, pulling Keith closer to him with his free arm. He closed his eyes as the van drew closer to the gate, hoping that somehow, they would break through. That somehow, they would find a hospital. That somehow, Keith would be okay.

\-----

Lance’s eyes remained fixated on the floor, not even looking up to answer the occasional questions the nurses asked him. His right arm was extended outwards, gentle fingers spreading some sort of ointment along the back of his hand. The cool gel soothed the irritation that had built up after hours of the cuts going untreated. His left hand was already wrapped in a gauze and now rested in his lap.

His torn shirt had been discarded upon admittance to the hospital, the staff kind enough to lend him a one of the spare nurse’s scrubs after they had treated his back. Now, the lower half of his back was covered in gauze. According to the doctors, the cuts weren’t too deep, so they probably wouldn’t scar. Good. Lance didn’t want to remember anything from that place anyway.

“Okay, hun. You’re done.” The sweet voice of the nurse said, lowering Lance’s hand that was now too wrapped in gauze.

“Thanks.” Lance muttered, not able to fill his voice with emotion.

“I’ll take him back to the waiting room.” Allura said, standing up from where she had been seated in the small room. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course.” The nurse said a moment before he heard her leaving the room.

“C’mon.” Allura said gently. “We should be hearing about him soon.”

Lance looked up from the floor, meeting Allura’s understanding gaze. “Is...Is this my fault? If he dies...will it be my fault for not getting to him fast enough?”

She offered him a sad smile and shook her head. “The only reason that Keith’s alive right now is because of you. Because you did all that you could and more to make sure he got out. That we all got out.”

“But-”

“Lance.” Allura said, putting her hands on either side of his face and forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were fierce, a fire behind them that he’d never really seen before. “I would still be trapped in that cellar if it weren’t for you. Maybe even dead. I’m alive because of you. All of us are alive because of you. Please don’t forget that. Ever.”

Lance eyes started to water again, his emotions running wild, too exhausted to rein them in. “Well, what was I supposed to do?” He managed to choke out. “You guys are my family.”

Allura’s eyes went soft, the fire dimming. She pulled Lance towards her, his head coming to rest against her chest. She stroked his back in slow, soothing circle as Lance cried. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching the fabric of her shirt for dear life.

The breakdown that had been a long time coming had finally arrived, Lance’s brain not able to process anything. Emotion after emotion wracked his body. Heartbreak. Agony. Fear. Relief. Guilt. Love. All of them taking ahold of his heart and squeezing before passing it off to the next one. All he could do was hold onto Allura until they passed, finding some small comfort in her motherly embrace.

\-----

“You can see him now.”

Lance stood up from his chair immediately, his eyes lighting up for the first time since that night. It had been three days since they had escaped the mansion. Three days since Keith had been admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. Three days since Lance had last laid eyes on him.

He hadn’t left the hospital since. The waiting room had become his home. The others had left a couple of times either to sleep in a real bed at the nearby hotel or to deal with the aftermath of the whole ordeal, but Lance had stayed. and no one had attempted to convince him to do otherwise.

At the moment, Shiro was off dealing with the police, trying to sort everything out. A few days ago, a pair of officers had stopped by to get everyone’s statement. Lance tried to explain what happened, but every time he opened his mouth to talk about it, he found himself falling into another meltdown. Eventually the officers said they would wait until he was ready.

Lance followed the nurse down the hospital halls, the rest of the team close behind. His only thought was of seeing Keith. It didn’t matter how bad he looked. He was alive and that was all that mattered. And while Lance knew that he wasn’t out of the woods yet, this was one step closer to everything being okay again.

“He’s right in there.” The nurse said, gesturing to a door.

“Why don’t we let Lance go in first.” Allura said quietly to the group. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

Lance gave her a grateful look, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ before pushing the door to Keith’s room open and entering.

The room looked like every other hospital room Lance had ever been in. The walls and floors were white, no decorations to be found anywhere. There was a window on the far side of the room, the curtains open so he could see the busy parking lot of the hospital below. There was a recliner in the corner of the room, leather cracked and worn from the many patients that had been housed in the room before. A single bed sat in the middle of the room, heart rate monitors among other contraptions positioned around it. A steady beep filled the silence, Lance finding comfort in the thought that it was Keith’s heart he was hearing.

Keith lay motionless in the bed, eyes closed. There was an IV in his right hand, the heart rate monitor attached to his left. Blankets covered about three fourths of his body, making it so Lance couldn’t see what condition his legs were in. His face looked sunken, dark bags under his eyes. His hair seemed deflated, the usual soft, black strands now looking gray and brittle.

Despite that, though, Lance had never been happier to see the raven-haired boy in his life. He rushed across the room, kneeling down beside the bed. He took Keith’s pale hand in his own, careful not to mess up any of the equipment. He could hear Keith’s soft breathing, too low for it to be natural.

“I’m so sorry…” Lance whispered. “So so sorry…”

He heard the door open behind him, but he didn’t turn to see who had come in. He didn’t really care.

“Would you like an update on his condition?”

Lance nodded, recognizing the voice. It was the doctor who had occasionally met with them to keep them updated on Keith’s progress. Lance couldn’t remember his name, but he was grateful nonetheless that he seemed to genuinely care about Keith’s recovery.

“Physically, aside from the burns on his legs, there’s nothing wrong with him.” The doctor said, moving further into the room and picking up the chart that was hanging off the end of Keith’s bed. “The burns will heal in time, but they’ll probably leave scars. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about that.”

Lance tore his eyes away from Keith to look at the doctor. “But he still hasn’t woken up? Why?”

“That’s the complicated part. We don’t know why, but it seems he’s slipped into a coma.”

Lance could feel his heart ripping in two all over again. “A coma?”

The doctor nodded. “There’s really no telling when he’ll wake up...or if he’ll wake up. The good news is that there’s signs of brain activity. So, his chances are better than most. It might just take some time.”

Lance nodded, his throat too dry for him to speak.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him and let you know if anything changes.” The doctor finished, putting the chart back. “Please let us know if you need anything.”

Lance didn’t respond as the doctor left the room, thoughts still stuck on the word ‘coma’. He kept thinking back to that night, pouring over what he could’ve done differently. Maybe if he hadn’t stopped to investigate that noise in the front room. Maybe if he hadn’t wasted time going to check the billiard. Maybe if he hadn’t fainted in the basement. Maybe then he wouldn’t be clinging to Keith’s limp hand and wondering if he was ever going to see his vast indigo eyes again, hear his deep, smooth voice again, feel his warm, protective embrace again…

He knew that he should remain strong, that he needed to have hope. He knew that it was dangerous to fall into that sorta thinking, the kind that made it harder to wake up every day. But how could he not when he was staring at a Keith that looked like he would break at the smallest amount of pressure? How could he not when the sturdiest person he knew looked so frail?

How could he not?

\-----

“So, I heard that they’re gonna transfer him closer to home soon.”

Lance looked up from the book he had been reading at the sound of Pidge’s voice. They were leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over their chest. They looked tired, dealing with the aftermath of the mansion investigation plus worrying about Keith seeming to be a little too much for them to handle. Lance understood. He was barely keeping it together as well.

A week had passed since Lance had first learned of Keith’s mysterious coma. Nothing had changed since then. Absolutely nothing.

The others visited often between trying to get their equipment back from the police, dealing with the surge of their online popularity after the story broke, and talking with lawyers about the next step towards filing charges against Lotor. Lance, however, stayed by Keith’s side as long as he could. He had befriended a couple of the nurses that regularly came to check in on Keith, one of them even allowing him to stay overnight when she was on duty.

Lance closed his book, setting it on the armrest of the recliner he was seated in, and said, “Yeah, they’re thinking the end of the week.” His voice was a lot more positive than he felt, but he had grown tired of everyone asking if he was okay. So, he put on a mask of optimism. He wasn’t sure if they others bought it, but they had stopped inquiring into his well-being shortly after.

“Nervous about it?” Pidge asked, moving further into the room.

Lance shrugged. “I guess. But I’m more ready to be home. And I think if he had a choice, Keith would want to be home to.”

The two were silent for a moment, listening to the beep of the heart rate monitor. It was Pidge who spoke first.

“Hey, listen...there’s been something I’ve been meaning to say...I just didn’t know the right time.” They’re voice was weighted, like they were struggling with each word.

“Well…” Lance said, offering them a supportive smile. “Now seems like a good time.”

Pidge nodded, moving to stand at the foot of Keith’s bed, small hands grasping at the frame tightly. They let out a deep breath, looking down for a moment and then back up at Lance. “I’m sorry.”

Lance’s face fell into a confused frown. “For what?”

“For forcing you guys to come on the investigation.” Pidge replied, their voice quiet. “If I hadn’t sent out that stupid tweet than you wouldn’t have come and he…” They trailed off, knuckles turning white as their grip on the bed tightened. Their eyes dropped to the floor. “And you wouldn’t be sitting in this hospital room everyday...and I just can’t help thinking that if things take a turn for the worst and Keith never wakes up...well, that’s on me...and I’m so sorry…”

Lance stood up from his chair, walking over to his small friend and prying their hands from the bed gently. They looked up at him as he did, and Lance noticed how red their eyes looked. Pidge must’ve thought about this a lot. It had probably kept them up at night. Once again, Lance understood. He’d thought a lot about what he could’ve done differently.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said, lacing his tone with sincerity. “You didn’t know what was in there. None of us did. And in the end, you helped get him out and personally, I think that’s more important.”

“All I did was rip your shirt…” Pidge said, shaking their head.

“All you did was help me escape from whatever was pulling me back.” Lance corrected. “And, I didn’t really like that shirt anyway. So it’s a double win for you.”

A smile broke on Pidge’s face at Lance’s last comment, their eyes rolling. “Liar. I know that was, like, your favorite shirt. You wore it all the time.”

Lance let out a heartfelt laugh, the first one in a long time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...but I’m a large in case you’re wondering.”

“I’ll buy you a new one, you moron.” Pidge said, laughing as well. “It’s the least I can do.”

\-----

Lance waved hello to the desk nurse as he made his way to Keith’s room. She smiled at him, waving back. It was relatively early, but Lance didn’t care. He usually arrived at the hospital at this time.

It had been a couple days since the transfer. Everything had gone over smoothly to Lance’s relief. He had been ready to be home. Sure, his apartment seemed empty without Keith there, his bed too cold, but it was better than a hotel. He finally had someplace to retreat to at night without the others being in close range. Someplace he could let all his emotions out without being asked if everything was okay.

No. Nothing was okay. And it wouldn’t be as long as Keith’s eyes remained closed. It wouldn’t be as long as he had to keep hearing the same thing from the doctor over and over again. No change. No knowing when he was going to wake up. No knowing _if_ he was going to wake up.

But Lance hoped. Every day he hoped that a miracle would happen. That was all he could so. Hope and wait.

Lance entered the familiar room, eyes falling on Keith. He looked the same as he did yesterday and the day before that. Still frail. Still weak. Still like everything that made him _Keith_ had been sapped out of him.

While usually the room would be empty when he got there, he found that today someone else was there.

“Allura? You’re here early.”

Allura turned from the window she had been staring out of, the solemn look on her face immediately turning cheerful. “Yes. I needed to speak with you. I figured the place to do so was here.”

“You weren’t wrong about that.” Lance said, giving her a smile. He moved towards the chair that was set next to Keith’s bed. He unslung his backpack from his shoulders and set it on the floor before sitting down. “So, what’d you want to talk about.”

Allura clasped her hands in front of her, not moving from her spot by the window. “Pidge told me what they’d read about that...place...while they were in the library. And, I got curious about something so I did some research. I wanted to understand...to make sense of what happened…”

Lance nodded. “So what’d you find? I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here unless you found something.”

Allura nodded, digging her hand into the pocket of her jeans and pulling out a piece of paper. “I looked into that story about the girl who died in the basement...and found this.” She moved towards Lance, handing him the paper.

Lance took it from her, curiosity leading him to open the folded paper. His eyes went wide as he stared at the picture in his hands. “No way...this is…”

“His name was Charles Finn.” Allura said.

“Charles…” Lance murmured, still staring at the picture. No matter how he looked at it, there was no denying that the man in the picture looked almost exactly like Keith. From the firmness of his jaw to the curve of his cheekbones to the strength in his eyes...it was all Keith. The only difference was the style of hair, the man in picture’s cut short and pushed over to the side. “Who was he?”

“The man that Anneliese Galrion loved...the girl who took her life in the basement.”

Lance couldn’t stop staring at the picture as pieces started to fall into place in his head. “Do you think it was her?”

“I do.” Allura said. “I think she was so fixated on Keith because he looks like Charles.”

“But...why would she hurt him them? If she loved Charles, why would she try to kill him?” Lance asked, his voice cracking slightly.

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” Allura admitted. “But I have a theory if you want to hear it...though I can understand if you don’t.”

Lance shook his head, handing the picture back to Allura. “No, I need to know. I can’t just look away after…”

Allura took the picture from him, folding it back up carefully. “Well,” She began slowly, trying to sort out her thoughts. “You said that you thought there was two malicious spirits in that place, right?”

“Right.” Lance said.

“So, I was thinking of who that other spirit could be...and thought that maybe it could’ve been her father. The one who locked Anneliese in the basement. He did get killed for what he did to Charles.”

“That’s a definite possibility.” Lance agreed.

“So what if it’s like this: Lotor comes across our show because of the popularity we gained after the asylum. He notices that Keith looks like Charles and for whatever warped reason he has, he thinks to invite us to investigate the place, knowing that Annaleise will react.”

“But he asked for me.” Lance pointed out.

“True.” Allura replied. “But he probably guessed that Keith would come along if you did. Also, you said it yourself. The paranormal seems to become more active around you. Maybe he wanted to use you to draw them out.”

Lance nodded, seeing her logic.

“And so Annaliese immediately attaches to Keith. But after dying in such as terrible way and then suffering years of being stuck in that house, her spirits is...warped. She becomes violent. Thinking that the only way to keep the one she loves is to...well…” Allura glanced over to Keith, Lance following her gaze.

“Hurt him.” Lance finished for her.

“Yeah…” She said quietly.

Lance looked back at her, noticing her fallen expression. “So, what about the father?”

“He wanted to keep them apart.” Allura said, eyes meeting Lance’s again. “He would probably go to any lengths to stop her from being with who he thought was Charles.”

“But he attacked me.” Lance pointed out. “Not Keith.”

“Maybe Anneliese wasn’t the one to trap Keith.” Allura said quietly. “Maybe he lured Keith to that room to keep him away from Anneliese. And what were you trying to do?”

“Get him out…” Lance breathed out, leaning back and running his hands through his hair. “Shit…but what about that rhyme-thing? The one that was written all over the walls? Where does that come into play?”

“I looked into that too.” Allura replied. “Apparently, when Anneliese was a child, it was the prayer her and her father would say every night before she went to sleep. When Anneliese died, her father had it inscribed on her grave. He claimed it would remind everyone that Anneliese was his first and foremost. Even after death he was trying to control her.”

“It’s what connects their spirits together…” Lance said.

“This is all purely a theory.” Allura reminded him. “It still doesn’t explain  _why_ Lotor did what he did. I don’t think we’ll ever figure that out…”

Lance smiled at her. “Thank you. Even if it’s just a theory, it’s at least more than what we had before.”

Allura smiled back, a gleam of sorrow in her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

\-----

Lance no longer noticed the beeps of the heart rate monitor. After a month of hearing them constantly, he had learned to tune them out, let them fade into the background. Sometimes he would pay attention to them, each beep a small reassurance that Keith was still alive. That he might wake up any day.

Today, Lance was ignoring them, instead focusing on completing his third sudoku puzzle of the day. Pidge had bought him a large set of puzzle books to occupy his time in the hospital, saying that he needed something to do besides mope. Over the last week or so he’d gotten really good at them...and was grateful for the distraction.

But even with his mind focusing on something entirely different, he still noticed the slight change in the beeps. They had picked up speed. Just a little bit. Probably unnoticeable to anyone but Lance who had been listening to them for so long.

Lance glanced up at Keith, his stomach twisting. He’d been waiting for a change, but he was scared it was going to be a bad change instead of a good one.

He saw movement, Keith’s eyelids fluttering open, his breaths coming more deeply.

“Keith?” Lance asked quietly, almost not believing what he was seeing. His heart jumped in his chest, relief pumping through his veins. Lance shot up from his chair, moving so he was standing over him, hands resting on the edge of the bed. He saw indigo eyes shift slowly to meet his own, recognition and confusion swirling within them. “Oh my god, Keith!”

Everything was suddenly so much brighter to Lance. The dull hospital room suddenly bursting into full color, patterns dancing around the room in brilliant hues.

“Lance…” Keith’s voice was gruff, cracking slightly from the month of not being in use.

“You’re awake!” Lance said, his tone bubbling with excitement. He couldn’t help the smile that had spread across his face.

“How long?” Keith asked between deep breaths.

Lance felt himself deflate as he answered the question. “About a month...felt like a lot longer…”

Keith didn’t respond, his eyes filling with an emotion that Lance couldn’t place. A moment later he felt soft fingertips brush the back of his hand. He glanced down to see Keith’s hand searching for his own. Another smile crossed his face as he took Keith’s hand in his own and squeezed, reveling in how after one long month he was finally able to feel Keith squeeze back.

“The others are all okay too. Just so you know.” Lance said, knowing that even though Keith was the one in the hospital bed, he would be worried about them.

“What happened?”

“We can talk about that later.” Lance replied, not sure if he was up to talking about it at the moment. He just wanted to enjoy having Keith back with him without thinking of the horrors that had taken him away. “We should get a doctor in here first. Dontcha think?”

Keith huffed, looking annoyed. “Doctors suck.”

A chuckle escaped Lance. “Yes, I know. Doctors are the worst. But you did just wake up from a month-long coma. I think that warrants a doctor.”

Keith’s only response was another huff, gaze moving to stare at the ceiling in irritation.

Lance chuckled again, happy to see that Keith was acting like his normal self. He leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, whispering “Thank god you’re okay.” just loud enough for Keith to hear. Then he reluctantly left the room, afraid that if he looked away Keith would slip away from him again. But Lance had been told over and over again to get somebody if something changed. And something had _definitely_ changed. He thought it best to play it safe.

Lance had planned on just finding the nearest nurse but changed his plan when he spotted Dr. Serrell conversing with another doctor who Lance had seen around the hospital. Dr. Serrell had taken on Keith after the transfer.

“Excuse me, Doctor.” Lance said, approaching them.

Both looked at him, Dr. Serrell offering him a friendly smile. By now he was very familiar with Lance. “Any changes?”

“Actually, yeah.” Lance replied, another broad smile breaking across his face. “He woke up.”

Momentary surprise crossed Dr. Serrell’s face before he regained his composure. “That’s great!” He then turned to the other doctor who had been listening to the conversation. “I have to take care of this. We’ll talk later.”

The other doctor nodded in understanding before walking away.

“Let’s go see him.” Dr. Serrell said. “We’ll need to run some test to make sure that he’s completely okay.” Lance nodded along as the doctor kept talking, mapping out the next steps that would be taken leading up to Keith finally getting to go home.

As they grew closer to the room, the doctor stopped talking. Lance glanced up at him, noticing the concern on his face.

“Too fast…” The doctor muttered before he broke into a jog and entered Keith’s room.

Lance felt his heart drop into his stomach but forced his legs to follow the doctor. As he entered the room, he came to understand what the doctor had been talking about. Keith’s heart rate was too fast, the beeps only continuing to speed up. Keith was hyperventilating, Lance could see, his chest rising and falling too quickly for him to actually be able to breathe. He was trying to move, his limbs jerking slightly as if he was trying to fight something off.

“He’s panicking.” Dr. Serrell said as he rushed to Keith’s bed.  “We need to calm him down or we’re gonna have to sedate him.”

Lance stood frozen as nurses rushed past him, being called into the room. Fear gripped at his insides, witnessing for the first time the terror Keith felt back at the mansion. He couldn’t help him then. He had been too late.

But he was here now. He could help.

“Keith! Keith, please listen to me.” Lance said, rushing to his side, standing next to a nurse that was holding down his arm. Keith’s eyes were shifting back and forth, like he was seeing something the others weren’t. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing is going to hurt you anymore.” Lance made his voice soothing despite everything. More panic wasn’t going to help. Keith needed something calming. Lance could be that. “It’s over, Keith. You’re safe. You’re here with me. Just breathe.”

Lance leaned down, placing his hands on either side of Keith's face. He rested his forehead gently against Keith’s, continuing to murmur soothing words to him. “Please, Keith. Please calm down.”

After what felt like forever, Keith started to relax, his breath coming out deeper, his movements slowing until he lay still. Lance kept talking all the way through it, telling him that he was safe. Telling him he was okay. Telling him that nothing was going to hurt him.

“...sorry…”

Lance lifted his forehead to stare at the raven-haired boy, indigo eyes meeting blue. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I scared you.” Keith said softly, subtle hints of guilt in his tone.

“Worried me.” Lance corrected. “You could never scare me. Not now. Not ever.”

“Sorry for worrying you. I won’t do it again.”

Lance gave him a small smile, brushing his thumbs along Keith’s cheekbones tenderly.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

\-----

**_Pidge: found this. u should listen to it_ **

**_Pidge: [AUDIO FILE]_ **

 

Lance stared down at the two messages Pidge had sent him. He knew that it was from that night. He knew that it might bring back some things he would rather not remember, but he didn’t think Pidge would send him anything traumatizing.

He had been on his way over to Keith’s apartment. It had only been a week ago that he finally got the ‘okay’ from the hospital and he was allowed to go home. Lance had spent most of the week at Keith’s apartment, trying to rein in his urges to hover. He just wanted to make sure Keith was really okay. He trusted the doctors as the hospital, but Keith’s coma had been ghost-related. Who knew what kinda side effects would pop up?

Lance had decided to hold off on telling Keith the full truth about what had happened at the mansion. He didn’t plan on never telling him. He was just scared that Keith might fall into another panic attack. That was the last thing he wanted. So, for now, he and others only gave him a vague explanation of what happened that night. The rest could come later.

Lance sighed, giving into Pidge’s cryptid text. He dug his headphones out of his pocket, taking a moment to untangle them before plugging them into his phone and putting them in his ears. Lance’s finger hovered over the play button for a minute, taking a moment to work up the courage. Taking a deep breath, Lance hit play.

 _“Never again.”_ Keith’s voice said, stopping Lance in his tracks. _“No more ghost hunting. Two near death experiences is enough for me. I’m tapping out. Hell, that’s even_ if _I survive.”_

There was a slight pause and then,

_“The nice thing about being miked is that it’s recording everything I say. Which means that if I don’t make it, well, I can decide what my final words everyone will hear will be. And that’s pretty cool, if you think about it.”_

Another pause. Lance’s heart had started to hammer against his chest.

_“I never thought about my future very much. I have always just kinda gone with the flow. But for the first time, I’m picturing what I would like it to be. Probably only because I might not get to have one. Which is fucked up. But whatever. Everything about this situation is fucked up.”_

Keith let out a bitter laugh.

_“Nothing fancy. No beach houses or big travel plans. That’s not really my style. Something simple, something small. Move to a tiny town where everyone knows each other. Buy a house on the edge of town. We’d become the talk of the town. Lance and I. Ya know, like, who are those two mysterious guys who just moved in? Are they brothers?”_

This time a genuine laugh sounded from the recording.

_“Why do small town people think that two guys living together have to be brothers even if they look nothing alike. Shit, Lance and I aren’t even the same ethnicity but they’d still think we were related. But we’d never explicitly say that we are dating. So the rumors and the questions would just grow and everyone in the town would just collectively lose their shit.”_

Another laugh. Lance’s heart swelled every time he heard it.

_“We’ll start a new channel together, documenting the whole thing. Maybe people would watch it, maybe not. Either way, we could look back on it and see how far we’ve come. Like a very public form of home movies.”_

A pause.

 _“So yeah, just something simple. That’s what I would want. Just me and Lance. Together. That’s all...I hope I get to see him again. That’s_ really _all I want.”_

Lance could feel his eyes start to water. But they weren’t sad tears. No, they were tears that came from a place of pure joy, of pure happiness, of pure love.

_“I don’t know what’s gonna happen. So just in case things don’t end pleasantly, I’m gonna shut everything off. No one needs to see…So this is Keith Kogane, age twenty-two...signing off.”_

The recording ended, leaving Lance standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at his phone screen. The people who passed thought he was probably just sending an important message or trying to inconvenience their lives by being in the way. But in truth, Lance was just basking in the reality that Keith loved him. Even after all the stupid shit he had to put up with, he loved him. Truly, deeply loved him.

And Lance truly, deeply loved him back.

Lance tore the headphones out of his ears, unplugging them from his phone and shoving them back in his pocket. Then he was running, pushing past people walking in front of him without a care. He had somewhere he needed to be. Someone he needed to see.

\-----

“We need, like, a dog or something.” Lance said, standing in the middle of their new living room, hands on his hips as his eyes scanned the room. Stacks of boxes were littered about, some labeled ‘Keith’ and others ‘Lance’. There was no rhyme or reason to the chaos at the moment. Their first goal was to just get everything out of the moving truck. Who knew what came after that?

“Why?” Keith asked, setting a box down with a huff.

“Aesthetic.” Was the only thing Lance offered up in response.

“Uh-huh…” Keith said, voice dry. “Care to elaborate.”

Lance turned to him and said, “Ya know...like you always see people in small towns out walking their dogs or playing fetch in the local park or...or...or whatever. We need a dog.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “I feel like you’ve seen too many movies. We don’t need a dog.”

“Aw, c’mon…” Lance whined, shoulders slumping. “Please?”

“Nope.” Keith said, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna have to take care of it.”

Lance deflated more, slinking over to Keith and resting his head on the raven-haired boy’s shoulder. He let out a small whine knowing that if he begged enough, Keith would eventually say yes.

Keith grasped his shoulders and pushed him away, sighing. “I know what you’re doing. It won’t work. No dog.”

“Cat?”

“No.”

“Rabbit.”

“No.”

“Hamster.”

“Definitely not.”

Lance went limp, collapsing onto the floor and letting out another whine. He spread his arm and legs out, pointedly staring at the ceiling instead of Keith who was standing over him. “You never let me do anything fun…”

“You live such a hard life.” Keith said, his tone mocking. “How will you ever survive?”

“I don’t know!” Lance replied, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. “My boyfriend’s a jerk and I’m dogless! I might as well just lay here for the rest of the day!”

“Like hell you are.” Keith said, nudging Lance with his foot. “I’m not unloading the rest of the truck by myself.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of my suffering!” Lance called out, his voice echoing around the room.

He could practically hear Keith roll his eyes. “If I _think_ about getting a dog will you stop acting like the world is ending?”

Lance uncovered his eyes, shooting Keith a broad smile. “Yes!”

“Then I’ll think about it. No promises.” Keith replied, extending a hand towards Lance.

Lance took it, standing as Keith hauled him to his feet. “I knew you’d come around.”

Keith rolled his eyes again. “Whatever.” He said as he turned and made his way out the front door.

Lance watched him go, wondering how he had gotten to this point in his life. Sure, the road had been bumpy, and he’d gotten lost more than a few times, but in the end, he had made it. He had somehow found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And by some miracle, that person seemed to reciprocate his feelings. And while Lance didn’t know what the future would hold, what hardships were waiting down the line for him, he knew that as long as he had Keith, he would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> It'll be small, I said. It'll just be like 10k words, I said. HA! I'm a liar apparently! This was the longest one...jeez...  
> Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I have some ideas for a part 4, so let me know if y'all are interested or if 3 parts is enough.  
> Any other feedback you are willing to give is greatly appreciated as well!  
> Also, follow me on tumblr for more of that sweet, sweet Klance content: [@wingsofvoltron](https://wingsofvoltron.tumblr.com/)  
> Stay safe and I'll see ya around!
> 
> ~Redjay
> 
> EDIT: Everyone seems to be on board for a part 4 so stay tuned for that! There will be fluff. There will be spooky stuff. It'll be great.


End file.
